


To Be Candid

by Lovelettes



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Douchestuck, F/F, Frottage, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-23
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovelettes/pseuds/Lovelettes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Said asshole is Jake English, the All Mighty and Popular. He's cool to the masses and hot to the swooning, tasteless ladies and gentlemen. He's parlously pretentious and a bombastic bastard. He's a part of an elite group at the top of the high school's vicious food chain, and he crushes hopes and hearts in his cruel fist.</p><p>In short, he's a douche.</p><p>And it just so happens that he has the hots for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [This](http://douchestuck.tumblr.com/) is quickly becoming one of my favorite AUs. Correction: it's number one.
> 
> Obvious out of characterness because, hey, Douchestuck AU.

**Be the guy who's currently being stalked by a tool.**

You are now Dirk Strider and holy fuck will this asshole just leave you alone already?

Said asshole is Jake English, the All Mighty and Popular. He's cool to the masses and hot to the swooning, tasteless ladies and gentlemen. He's parlously pretentious and a bombastic bastard. He's a part of an elite group at the top of the high school's vicious food chain, and he crushes hopes and hearts in his cruel fist.

In short, he's a douche.

And it just so happens that he has the hots for you.

You've just spent half of your lunch period dodging him and his advances, which, as of late, have increased in frequency and substance. He's went from “hey babe, you have sweet ass” to “hey babe, you have a sweet ass and we should do something sometime that involves me inside of it” in just a few months, and to be honest, it was freaking you out.

Okay. Just a _bit_. If you weren't completely disgusted with him, you'd almost find it flattering. No one's ever taken particular interest in you before, at least not in _that_ way.

Nonetheless, you aren't looking for his attention, so you duck into the library to hide among the stacks.

That guy wouldn't step _foot_ in a library.

You settle yourself in at one of the tables and break out your laptop. You have fifteen minutes, maybe twenty minutes left of lunch, and you figure you can start on another episode of _Madoka_. You didn't really feel up for shedding tears over fictional characters today, but it would provide a good distraction from the other problems plaguing you.

You plug in your headphones and start up a stream, ready to surrender yourself to the mercy of your solar plexus. You only make it half way through the opening when someone leans over you and slams your laptop shut, arms boxing you in against the table.

You jerk your headphones off and turn to the intruder. “Excuse you, I was—”

“Hey babe.”

Oh, you are so _fucked_.

Jake English looms over you, lips quirked in a sleazy smirk, sunglasses dangling from his shirt, arms on either side of you, bracing himself against the table.

To be fair, perhaps the library was a bit obvious.

You quickly begin gathering your things, sliding your laptop back into your bag and tucking your headphones away. You push the seat away from the table, causing him to reel in order to avoid being hit in the goods.

“Excuse me,” you say as you stand, attempting to move past him.

But Jake is taller than you and moves in your way. You step aside, he steps with you. You side-step again and make a quick step forward, but he blocks you again and your face is suddenly acquainted with his shoulder.

“English,” you say, and you're trying desperately to control your tone. “Please move aside. I have somewhere to be.”

“Nah. Not when I have you _right_ where I want you.” He tilts his head and his smirk grows a little bit larger.

You don't restrain your glare.

“Don't give me that look, Dirk. I know you want me,” he says, voice teasing and cocky. “I know you want me to pick you up and slam you down on the table and take you right here, right now. I know you want to wrap those slender legs around me while I fuck you. I _know_ you do.”

“You have quite the imagination, English.” You intentionally push your glasses up your nose with your middle finger. “Unfortunately, it couldn't be farther from reality.”

“Aw, don't be like that, babe.” He takes a hold of your arm, and his grip is firm but soft.

“Let go of me, English,” you demand, attempting to pull your arm away from his grasp.

“No can do, Dirk.” He leans down to you. “You see—” His breath fans your face. “—I'm interested in you.” His lips ghost yours.

Your eyes narrow. Annoyed by your powerlessness, you say, “In my sweet ass, yeah. Yeah, I got that.” There's a bit of hurt in your words that you didn't mean to project, but you couldn't help it.

You didn't like being looked at as an object. A potential fucktoy. That's degrading.

His emerald eyes look off to the side and he shrugs. “Well, yeah. There's that. But that's not just it.”

You raise an eyebrow, prompting him to continue.

“You're boyfriend material.”

You couldn't believe your ears. What the actual _fuck_ was he thinking? Was he smoking something? His eyes were clear enough.

“Hah. Yeah, sure. Mr. Prada wants to date me. Hilarious,” you say, shaking your head dismissively.

He holds up two fingers. “One: I wear Gucci. Two: I fucking mean that. You're totally boyfriend material. I'd buy you things, take you out for a drive in my Porsche, show you off for all to see, fucking spoil you to _death_. Hell, I'd blow you in public, if you wanted.”

You shake your head more vigorously. Mouth slightly agape, eyes narrowed in suspicion, you say, “You're _not_ serious.”

“Oh, but I _am_ ,” he insists.

“I don't believe you for a second.”

“What if I prove it to you?”

“What do you mean—”

But you're cut off by sound of your belt clinking open. Jake's on his knees suddenly, unbuttoning your pants, smirking up at you as he slips his hand inside your boxers, drawing your cock out.

“Showing my passion and humility, of course.”

“English!” you exclaim, shocked and confounded. “What the _fuck_ —oh!”

His tongue runs along your length, his hand giving you a good, firm pump. That feels...different. Different from your own hand. It feels...good.

Jake begins to pump you, setting a languid rhythm. You bite back a moan, unwilling to show a reaction, unwilling to show a weakness.

“This is assault,” you seethe. “It's rape.”

But he keeps pumping you, eyes boring into yours. “Say stop and I will.” His tongue runs along your length again, base to tip before stopping to tongue the slit.

“English...you motherfucker,” you say, a groan following.

“Is that a 'stop'?”

“Mother _fucker_...”

“Yes? No? Help me out here, Dirk.”

You gaze down at him, eyes heavy-lidded, and examine his face. He's tan and handsome, dark hair styled carefully, eyes a deep green, lips pretty—yes, _pretty_ —and pink and pulled into a smirk. He looks so smug, and it's so absolutely, positively _infuriating_ that you see red for a moment.

Jake's hand stills when he notices your expression. All of the smugness from earlier disappears from his face instantaneously. “Do you want me to stop?”

You're surprised—touched, really—and you momentarily forget yourself, forget who he is, forget what's happening. That was...very human of him, very...nice of him. That was care in his voice, gentleness in his eyes. For a moment, you consider saying yes to his offer.

Only for a moment.

You don't give into him, and you will never give into him. You vow this to yourself. But that doesn't mean you couldn't have a little fun with him.

You don't recognize the husky tone of your voice when you growl out a command. “Don't you fucking stop, English.”

Jake grins—a full-on fucking _grin_ —and wraps his lips around you, sealing them off behind the head of your erection and giving you a good suck.

You moan loudly before remembering that you were in a library. You bring on hand to your mouth to stifle the noises spilling from your lips, the other gripping the table.

Jake wraps his hands around your ass, giving it a tight squeeze. He pulls you forward and takes your cock deeper into his mouth, hot, wet tongue swirling around your length. You whimper when you hit the back of his throat, head bowing, chin hitting your chest, eyes only on him.

You're not there for long. Jake gags and you quickly withdraw before he chokes. He turns to the side and coughs into his fist, the other hand still occupying your ass, and regains his breath. He clears his throat and tries to win back his dignity by looking up at you from under his lashes, tongue running over his bottom lip.

His mouth is on you again, fist pumping the area he can't reach, head bobbing at a moderate pace.

You're panting, and you know that you won't be lasting for much longer. You're, admittedly, a virgin, and you've never had your cock sucked before so it's completely understandable that you would get overwhelmed by the sensation of Jake English's mouth and tongue working you over.

You reach your peak, one hand over your mouth, the other lost in his stiff hair (what did this fucker even _use_ ), holding him in place as you shuddered and spilled.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you think, _If you love me, you'll swallow._ The notion is stupid, to be frank. There's no way that Jake motherfucking English would lower himself to that—

Holy shit he is. He did. He swallowed.

His grip on your softening dick loosens, and he give you one last suck, lips popping as he pulls away from you. You release his hair. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stands up. And you just stare, incredulous.

Jake doesn't say anything, he just smirks and fishes around for something in his pocket.

You feel your traitorous cheeks burn under his gaze, and you're frozen in place. “I...” you begin, voice quiet. You didn't know what to say.

Jake pecks you on your forehead, slips a paper into your pocket, and winks at you. All thought is lost.

“Message you later, babe,” he says before disappearing, leaving you alone to collect yourself.

And when you're alone with yourself, your anger flares. Anger...and shame. You were taken in so _easily_ by him. That's unacceptable.

To be candid, however, it was thrilling to have this attention, to be lavished so lovingly.

You curse yourself for thinking this and resolve to ignore his messages and to ignore him. Jake English is dangerous, your kryptonite, if you will, and you couldn't afford talking to him, thinking about him, even.

But when you got home later that afternoon, vibrator deep in your ass, his name was on your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You are so _fucked_ " is foreshadowing eheheheh.
> 
> I'm not sure how many chapters there will be, but it's likely three. Next chapter will be a pesterlog.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a deal is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was suppose to be doing those three projects that are due Monday plus cosplay stuff but my hand slipped.
> 
> Pesterlog chapter!

Against your better judgment, you add him to your chum roll. You don't message him, though. To be absolutely candid, you're waiting for him to message you first.

And he does, much to your horror.

\--  golgothasTerror [GT] began pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

GT: Hey babe how are you?  
GT: Babe.  
GT: Cmon dirk don't ignore me cmon.  
GT: Dirk.  
GT: Strider.  
GT: Dont ignore me i know thats what youre doing you ass.   
TT: Do you need something?   
GT: Ouch. So cold to someone who sucked you off.   
TT: I don't want to have this conversation.   
GT: And what conversation would that be per say?   
TT: You know what I'm talking about.   
GT: No im afraid I dont know what you could be referring to dirk.   
TT: You're going to make me say it, aren't you?  
TT: Fine then.  
TT: The dating thing. The thing where you want to spoil me and show me off, ect.   
GT: What do you say huh? Be my boyfriend dear strider?  
GT: Will you do me the honors in letting me own that sweet ass?   
TT: Well, gosh! You sure know how to make a guy feel all warm and special, don't you?  
TT: I totally don't feel used at all.   
GT: Im not planning on using you dirk. Thats an asshole move.   
TT: You are an asshole, English.   
GT: Youre a dumbass strider. Didnt my selfless blowjob prove to you that i am not using you nor am i planing to.   
TT: That means nothing.   
GT: I swallowed.   
TT: I repeat, that means nothing.   
GT: I dont swallow strider. Ever.   
TT: Well, christ. How many guys to do you blow, English?   
GT: …  
GT: Well...   
TT: English?   
GT: Ok heres the deal and dont laugh at me because im being open and honest with you right now but...  
GT: Ive never had a boyfriend...  
GT: ...or girlfriend ok. I havent dated anyone.   
TT: …  
TT: I'm tempted to laugh but I have no room to do so.   
GT: So that means that was you havent either and that was your first bj right?   
TT: And that was your first as well.  
TT: It seems that we are on level playing ground.   
GT: Well now that its out in the open that i have this small flaw in my history what do you say?  
GT: Date me?   
TT: Ugh.  
TT: English.  
TT: Can't we just—I don't know.  
TT: I've given this a lot of thought. And I'm not comfortable being in a monogamous relationship with you.  
TT: I can't believe I'm actually about to suggest this, but...  
TT: Uh.  
TT: There's no way to put this eloquently, so I'm just going to come out and say it.  
TT: Can't we just mess around and see where it goes from there?   
GT: …  
GT: …  
GT: …  
GT: …   
TT: English?   
GT: Are you suggesting that we become fuck buddies?   
TT: ...Yes.   
GT: And that theres a possibility that these little escapades will develop into something else thats more on the romantic side?   
TT: Possibly.  
TT: Too weird? Or is this okay with you?   
GT: Yes.  
GT: Hell.  
GT: Fucking.  
GT: Yes.  
GT: Thisll work out just fine. Of course i *am* expecting you to return the favor the next time we meet.   
TT: Figured that. Luckily, I have more practice than you do.   
GT: Shit dirk what do you practice on?   
TT: Vibrator. Every young teenage girl and curious teenage boy needs one.   
GT: What really? They do?   
TT: You don't have one?   
GT: No. No i never really thought about it.   
TT: You have much to learn.  
TT: And just to be safe, when we finally do the full sex, you're topping. I never really saw myself as anything other than a bottom anyway, though.  
TT: Though switching could be interesting.  
TT: Hm. That's something to think about.   
GT: Dirk.  
GT: Dirk its the weekend can you haul ass and get over here right now? And bring the vibrator.   
TT: No can do, English. I'm catching a movie with Dave, Roxy, and Rose tonight.  
TT: How about tomorrow? I'll come by early, and we can spend the day together.  
TT: Wait.  
TT: That sounds romantic.  
TT: What I meant is that we can spend the day having sex.  
TT: Casual sex.   
GT: Suuuuuure. Just *casual* sex...*wink*   
TT: Ugh...   
GT: So what movie are you seeing?   
TT: I don't know. Whatever they feel like seeing, I guess. It's more up the girls than us. Roxy's been dying to see Wreck-It Ralph.  
TT: Huh.   
GT: ?   
TT: I just realized that you haven't said one word about my friends. Something the matter? Or has the lovebug already caught you in a vice?   
GT: It may have. Dont want to offend you any more than i have already. I dont think itll help move this thing along will it?  
GT: So yes the lovebug has caught me and i dont want it to ever let go.   
TT: The lovebug has suplexed you into a table. You bit your tongue when you hit the ground. You can no longer speak poorly of us.  
TT: That has to be the second high point of the day. Immunity.  
TT: Hey, pass it along to your friends.   
GT: I will if you become mine.   
TT: You're not helping your case by being pushy, English.   
GT: Sorry i guess.   
TT: We'll work on it.  
TT: Anyway. I have to go. I have some things to attend to.   
GT: Have a nice time with your friends then. Try not to think about my hot mouth while youre watching the movie.  
GT: Awkward place to get a boner babe.   
TT: I'll keep that in mind.  
TT: Bye.   
GT: Im throbbing with excitement. Until tomorrow babe.  
GT: And bring the vibrator!   
TT: Ugh.  
TT: All right.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering golgothasTerror [GT] \--

You can't fucking believe what kind of shenanigans you just got yourself into. You chide yourself and step away from the computer, beginning your search for a distraction. As a result, you miss Jake's last message.

GT: <3

\-- golgothasTerror [GT] ceased pestering timaeusTestified [TT] \--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is...I don't know yet.
> 
> This is PWP guys I don't know what you're expecting of me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which going to the movies was probably not the best choice in Dirk's state.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I told you guys how awesome you are? Because you guys are awesome. I don't think I'm programmed to handle this much attention.

You. Can't. Fucking. Believe. It. You can't fucking believe it, and you continue to remain in this state of skepticism long after you've settled into your seat at the movies.

What the _hell_ were you thinking?

You agreed to sleep with Jake English. _Jake English_.

 _JAKE ENGLISH_.

Repeatedly. Repeatedly, with a chance of dating him. You pronounced yourself a bottom. You agreed to spend the day having sex with him.

You agreed... You agreed...

Goddamn hormones.

You heave a sigh as the theater darkens, stealing the soda from Roxy's hands. She bounces lightly in the seat beside you, clawing at your arm, chattering quietly about just how excited she is to see this movie. You nod, still in your stupor, and hand the soda back to her.

Roxy looks at you strangely for a moment before she asks, “What's wrong, Di-Stri?”

You shake your head at her. “Tell you later. Enjoy the movie, Rox.”

Her eyes linger on you just a little longer, worry furrowing her brow. You raise your eyebrows at her and incline your head to the screen. She turns hesitantly and continues to watch, reluctant to leave you alone with your thoughts.

You'll blame your hormones for this one. There's no use in brooding over what's already been said. Sure, you could always call the whole thing off (you have a feeling he would back off you for a little while, at least) and tell Jake the entire thing was just a joke. But...

Didn't you want this? Wasn't this something you thought you'd never get? You always thought that you would spend your days alone with computers and robotics (and your trusty vibrator) with no one but your brother and your friends. You don't need anyone else other than them. You don't need love of the romantic variety.

But wouldn't a fling be nice?

Yes. Yes, it would.

You force yourself to push your problems to the back of your mind and to focus on the movie. You can deal with schematics later when you're with him.

 _With him_.

It sends fire through your veins, a heat through your cheeks, an ache through your body.

You repeat: goddamn hormones.

You look back at the screen. Nothing in it makes sense. It's all colors and music, and you're all heat and want. It can't hold your attention, not like Jake can.

**== >**

The movie's over, and you have no idea what you just watched. You just spent the last hour and a half readjusting yourself in your seat in an attempt to hide the growing bulge in your pants while fighting off little mental film clips of Jake. Jake with his lips around you, Jake bending you over your bed, Jake wrapping his hand around you and jerking, Jake with his lips on yours and his tongue teasing yours.

JakeJakeJakeJakeJakeJakeJakeJakeJakeJakeJakeJake.

Fuck.

You hate everything. You hate your hormones, you hate him, and you hate yourself.

And you hate that you're texting him.

English. My place. Get the fuck over here.

You don't wait for a response before you snap your phone shut.

You file out of the theater with your friends, listening to them discuss where to grab some dinner. You finger your phone in your pocket idly before breaking down and checking just a few moments later.

Nothing.

When you all make it to the lobby, you form a small circle to formally discuss dinner plans. John Egbert, having apparently just walked out of a movie himself, spots your group and strides over, the walk awkward and unpracticed and a poor imitation of Jake's.

He attaches himself to Dave, lame come-ons based off his mentor's (none other than Jake English himself) spilling from his mouth. Dave looks at him quizzically for a moment before his passive expression reclaims his face. He doesn't make a move to shove him off and instead opts for fooling around with the Instagram app on his phone.

You tell your friends that you won't be joining them for dinner, and after Roxy nags you to tell them what's up, you say that you aren't feeling well.

“Go on and eat. I'll be fine. I shouldn't have come out with you guys feeling like this,” you say, and the truth slides right out of your mouth without you knowing.

Dave glances up at you. “Want me to drive you home?”

“No, I'm okay to drive. I'll lay down when I get back.”

Your eyes linger on his, trying to convey to him your desires.

_Don't come home early. Don't._

You know that he's confused and is, no doubt, going to grill you when he gets home, but you can't find it in you to worry about it. Dave nods to you and returns to tapping on his phone, ignoring John and his little shoulder massage.

Roxy gives you a hug and demands that you feel better in time to do something with her on Sunday, and Rose just smiles at you politely and wishes you well.

When you climb into your car, you check your phone again. Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you send him another text.

The door will be unlocked.

**== >**

You collapsed on your bed and fell asleep at some point after you arrived home. You were embarrassed by yourself, by your thoughts, and the only thing to do was to sleep. Jake wasn't going to text you back. He was probably out with his friends. You had left your phone on just in case and dropped it onto the end table by your bed.

You're not sure how long you were sleeping, but when you awake, the light to your room has been flipped on. There's a warm, wet sensation on the back of your neck, and a weight is settled on your hips.

You lift your head, fixing your skewed glasses, wondering what the fuck is going on.

The warmth leaves your neck, leaving a wet trail behind, and suddenly hot breath is in your ear.

“Hey babe,” Jake mumbles lowly, huskily. “You awake now?”

Your first thought is to tell him to stop and to kick him off you, but then you remember just _why_ you called him over.

If you're going to be candid with yourself, you want to get laid tonight.

Or at least get _some_ form of release.

“English...” you mutter, voice thick with sleep and contrived annoyance.

He takes your earlobe between his lips and rolls his hips against your ass, his erection apparent.

“It's rape if they're not awake,” you say.

“Want me to stop?”

You search yourself, your feelings, and find that you really don't want him to. But you decide not to tell him verbally.

You brace yourself on your elbows and push your hips back, causing him to topple off you. And before he could get too disappointed, you roll over onto your back, fix your glasses, and spread your legs.

You open your arms. “Well? Come on then.”

Jake, who was previously in possession of a hurt visage, smirks and slides forward on his knees. He takes a hold of your thighs, lifting them to rest atop his hips. He presses into you, and you moan quietly, fingers gripping his shoulders.

The incessant stimulation makes you half-hard in just a few moments, eyes hazy and observing the way he holds your thighs up, the way they slide up and down up and down, rubbing you in something reminiscent of comfort.

He keeps rubbing against you, and soon enough your pants are feeling stifling, chafing, uncomfortable. You're about to reach down to relieve those feelings when a thought strikes you.

“Aren't you going to kiss me?” you ask, blaming the heat of your face on his ministrations.

He meets your eyes, and there's a blend of shock and desire. “Can I?”

You grind back against him, breath heavy. “I'm...I'm not Julia Roberts. I kiss the men I...I sleep with.”

Jake grins at you and surges forward, lips finding yours, wet and hot and waiting. It's frantic, carnivorous, heated. It's as if he can't get enough of it, as if he's been waiting for the opportunity to kiss you for a lifetime.

Your lips move against his in the same quick cadence, your arms looping around his neck, pulling him down closer, harder. Your lips part, open to him, inviting him in. His tongue dips inside, moves against yours, and you're moaning into him, hips lifting to grind up against him.

Jake groans, and it's a lovely sound, you think. He presses your hips back down, holding you down with just one hand, and fumbles between the two of you. You hear the sound of a zipper and then you realize that he's undoing his jeans. Your eyes crack open just enough to see his face pressed against yours, eyes closed, eyelashes dark and thick. You glance past his face just in time to see him awkwardly shimmy his jeans down to his thighs.

You break away from the kiss and smile, holding back a laugh. “He _lo_ briefs.”

You really didn't expect those emerald Calvin Klein briefs to be under those designer jeans. As funny as the thought of it is, it's actually very hot. You could see his erection straining against the luxurious material and a dark spot from pre-cum.

You lift your eyes to examine his face. He's flushed a deep red, handsome face shiny with sweat, lips swollen from your kisses and your bites, expression a little miffed at your stifled laughter.

You don't say anything, you don't apologize, you just grasp the hard lump in his briefs and knead. Jake's head drops to your shoulder, face turning to moan into your neck. You smile wickedly, even though he can't see it, and tug his briefs down. His cock springs free and you take a firm hold of him, noting that he's thicker than you. You stroke him the best you can from this position, which is enough, evidently, to rip low moans from his throat, teeth grazing your neck, lips leaving hot kisses down it.

This is all well and good, but your own neglected erection is starting to become painful, so you push Jake off you and sit up, fighting with your trousers. You manage to slide your belt off with ease, but unbuttoning your pants is a little more tricky with your trembling fingers.

Jake knocks your hands aside and does it himself, unbuttoning and unzipping and yanking your pants and your boxers straight off your legs. He takes a moment to climb off your bed and pull his pants and his briefs off, turning around to give you a nice view of his tanned, toned ass.

Jake turns back around and approaches you, sliding forward onto the bed on his knees, smirking at you. You don't say anything, preferring the silence between the two of you. You move onto his lap, one hand moving up his shirt, fingertips dragging down his chest. The other hand moves down between you, grasping both of your erections together and giving them a long, slow pull.

He gasps and moves against you, one arm crossing your back, clutching your shoulder, forcing you to bury your face in the crook of his neck. His hand covers yours, and together you move them, skin against skin, hardness against hardness, friction driving you crazy.

Jake's loud, louder than you, and you thank Dave silently for staying away from your business for tonight.

You rear back suddenly, mouth colliding with his. The kiss is open, tongues are everywhere, and it's so _messy_. But you don't care. All you care about is finding your release.

You feel your balls tensing up, and you know that you're close, and judging by the way he's quivering, so is Jake. A delicious heat welling in your stomach tears through you, wrecking havoc on your body, vision going white. You thrust up into your hand and his, biting Jake's lower lip, moaning unrestrained.

He follows in suit, a moan that sounds suspiciously like your name emerging from his throat. He spills over in both of your hands, much like you did, and the two of you just sit there for a moment, unmoving, holding each other, sighing, panting, breathing, kissing.

You fall backwards, back against the softness of your mattress. Jake lays down carefully beside you, winding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

He's still breathing heavily when he asks, “S'good?”

Your eyes meet his, glossed over, sated. You struggle to catch your breath. “S'good.”

You never want to stop this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there might be more than three chapters. Okay, there will be. I don't know how many though.
> 
> You guys see what I'm doing there? Dropping the title each chapter. Oh yes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dirk has a couple of awkward conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm spoiling you guys by releasing chapters this fast. But school is starting back up, so there won't be essentially a chapter a day.  
> (See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Jake left before Dave came home, making a show of putting his briefs and jeans back on, dancing around a little bit for you. It was a reverse strip tease, but fortunately for you, you were too spent to get any sort of physical reaction from it.

No sooner than when Jake pulled away from the curb, the girls arrived to drop off Dave.

You hurry to pull your pants back on, forgoing your boxers, and toss a glance back to your bed. The comforter and sheets are sufficiently mussed, as is your hair, due to the post-sex round of wrestling (Jake had called it “fisticuffs” and immediately corrected himself with a twinge of embarrassment in his voice, much to your confusion) with Jake. If Dave happened to stumble into your room, he wouldn't suspect a thing. You're not a particularly neat sleeper.

You open the door for Dave, mumbling a greeting in your best half-awake voice.

Dave mumbled one back and walked past you, dropping a box of Chinese on the counter. “Brought you some back, in case you're hungry.”

You stomach, as if on cue, growled. You nod to him and swipe the box. “Thanks.”

You're working on opening the box when suddenly Dave presses against you. His nose meets the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. You stiffen.

“Dave, what the hell are you doing?” you ask, muscles coiling.

He steps back and you whirl, facing him with steady eyes. Dave stares at you with his infuriating impassiveness. He tilts his head and just _stares_ at you. Something in his eyes—confusion? surprise?—flickers.

“You smell like sex,” he states, and the air is suddenly choking you.

You cock an eyebrow at him, fighting to hide your growing panic. “And how would you know what sex smells like?”

He shrugs at you. “I just do.”

“You 'just do'? You—”

“Who'd you do?” Dave asks, and it's blunt and it takes you back. You were hoping to steer the conversation into a different direction.

“I—”

“Or get done by,” Dave interjects, shaking his head. “Whatever. You're a bottom, yeah? I mean, why else would you have a vibrator? Don't look at me like that, Dirk. I know what a vibrator sounds like.”

You sit the takeout box back down and cross your arms, allowing a small glare to grace your face. “Why is that any of your business? Huh, Dave?”

“If you have a boyfriend, that's my business,” he says, a similar glare settling into his features.

“Well then,” you say, walking past him, “that settles that. I don't have a boyfriend.”

Dave grabs your shoulder and pulls you back roughly. He's not letting this go. “Then who fucked you? I figure that I deserve to know.”

You sigh, frustrated. “Dave...why? Why do you want to know?”

“'Cause if you have a fuck buddy, and you're bringing him over here for your not-just-one-night stands, I gotta know who I'll be entertaining after you're passed out.”

“Dave,” you say, short and warningly.

He lets go of your shoulder. “What I mean is... Who are you bringing here to intrude on us?”

You're not sure how to react to that or what that even means. “I...he's not intruding...”

Dave looks perfectly stoic to anyone who doesn't know him. But you do, and you can see the embarrassment in his face, hear the higher pitch his voice has taken on. It worries you.

He doesn't look at you when he speaks. “It's always been just me and you and the girls, and I...we don't need anyone else,” He lifts his eyes. “We don't need a Jake English or a John Egbert or a Kanaya Maryam or a Jane Crocker or any of _those_ kinds of people. We just need each other.”

For a split second, you think he knows, and you panic for a moment before realizing that he's just naming names.

But that split second was enough for him.

“Oh my god...I...Dirk...it's English, isn't it?” Dave blinks rapidly in disbelief. “Oh my...fucking...god... You're letting _English_ fuck you?”

And now you're trapped, nothing but a rabbit trying to escape from a fox. You think that's insane: you're the older brother. How could Dave corner you?

You leap to your defense, and attempt to control your voice. “Hold on a second, Dave. Didn't I _just_ tell you that he's _not_ my boyfriend? It's casual, and it's private. You think I want people to know about this. No! Do you think he wants people to—well, actually yes, but he's going by my conditions, so that doesn't matter.” You sigh and inch a little closer to Dave, reaching a hand out to pat his shoulder. “The point is that I'm not abandoning you guys. I had a little lapse in judgment tonight, but I'm going to make sure that this _thing_ doesn't intrude on our time together.”

Dave doesn't look at you, but he nods, quietly, solemnly. “I know. I understand what you're saying. I'm...maybe a little jealous? I don't know. I kind of just want to hoard you, bro.”

Dave has always been close to you. For the longest time, it was just you and him, him and you. Roxy and Rose came along, and the two of you adjusted, accepted them. But your friend circle never expanded. The thought of someone taking one of you away must scare him, just like it scares you.

You attempt to comfort him, so you smile. “Wanna hug it out?”

“Ironically so,” he says, smiling back as he wraps his arms around your back.

You hug him hard and breathe a little easier. Dave didn't exactly give you his blessing, but he was okay with it. Somewhat. He would learn to accept it. He would see that Jake English wasn't taking you away from anyone.

As you're hugging him, something catches your eye. You're taller than he is, so the scarf looped around his neck does nothing to hide the bruise raised on his freckled skin.

“What the hell is this?” you ask, smirking a little bit as you pull the scarf from his neck. You've turned the tables on him, and you're quite pleased about it.

Dave tears away from you as if you've burned him, one hand slapping the spot on his neck to cover the offending bruise. “It's nothing,” he says quickly.

“Did that John Egbert happen to be involved in this?”

“No.”

“Dave.”

“ _No_.”

“Don't lie to me when I was just being open and honest with you.”

Okay, so that wasn't quite true. Dave had to pry the truth from you, but he was too busy trying to run to call you out on it.

You proceed to stare him down, smirk never leaving your face, as Dave slowly creeps backwards to his room.

“Dave... Dave, have you been naughty?” you ask, voice slightly sing-song.

Dave cringes. “Don't do that. Please. Never use that word or that voice around me again.”

He really shouldn't tell you what gets on his nerves, especially when he knows that you enjoy antagonizing him. “Naughty Dave! Naughty Dave! Naughty Dave! Naugh—”

“All right already! Stop it!” He sighs, shoulders slumping, hand dropping from his neck. “Yes, it was Egbert. No, I'm not sleeping with him. I...I don't even know when he did it, okay? I was fooling around with Instagram—I have five thousand followers now, by the way—and he just...latched onto me.”

You're quiet for a minute, absorbing this new information. You figure Dave is lying to you because, hey, not noticing someone biting you? That's stretching it. You know that he had to have let Egbert give him a hickey. Had to. Maybe he just let him do it and didn't say anything, or maybe he welcomed it like you welcomed Jake.

In any case, you decide to let it slide. At least for a moment.

“Maybe you should start sleeping with him,” you suggest, smug expression returning.

“Bro.”

“A little fling to get some release...”

“Bro, no.”

“Although, Egbert seems a little uncoordinated...”

“Bro, stop!”

**== >**

You take a deep breath before opening a chat, fingers twitching nervously.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--

TT: Rox.  
TT: Roxy.  
TT: Hey, I have some gossip for you.  
TG: oh do u now?????  
TT: That caught your attention. It seems that you have your principles in order.  
TG: yah but u never want ot gossipp with me dirky  
TG: *to  
TG: ergh *gossip  
TT: Wow. No one would ever believe that you've won three national spelling bees judging from our pesterlogs.  
TG: i can spell wen it atcually counts  
TG: *when  
TG: shit  
TG: *actually  
TG: neway whats up???? you said there wolud be gossip????  
TT: Well, yeah. I figure I should tell you before Dave lets it slip, or in case you figure it out for yourself. You usually do.  
TG: i am a storng woman who dont need no man  
TG: but i want this gossip so gogogogogogogogo  
TT: All right. I'll just tell you. Straight up.  
TT: To the point.  
TT: No beating around the metaphorical bush.  
TG: dirk  
TG: dirk just tell me  
TT: I was going to.  
TG: youre doin that stalling thign again  
TT: No I wasn't.  
TG: DIRK  
TT: Okay, maybe I was.  
TG: GET TO THE FUKCING PINT!!!!!!!!!  
TG: *POINT GODDAMN IT  
TT: Calm down, Rox. I will.  
TT: I just...  
TT: Don't judge me.  
TT: Okay?  
TG: oh dirky i would nevr do that to u bby  
TT: Maybe it would be easier to tell you if weren't nipping at the gin.  
TG: OMFG im just slight buzzed!!!!  
TG: not like rose hasnt done it tooo  
TT: Okay, but listen carefully, Roxy. This stays between me, you, Dave, and Rose. No blabbing to anyone.  
TG: gotcha  
TT: Don't freak out but...  
TT: I may or may not be having casual sex with Jake English.  
TG: …  
TG: hold on  
TT: ?  
TG: *takes a deep breath*  
TG: OMFG THIS IS FUCKING PRICLESS UR DONG JAKE ENGLISH  
TG: OH JESUS *DOING  
TG: NO WAIT I LIKE DONG BETTER  
TG: ASDFGHJKAZDFGHJKSDFGK  
TT: Roxy.  
TG: ASDFGHSDFGHGFDSDRFHWAQFKERLW;  
TT: Roxy.  
TG: so ur joking rite  
TT: No. No, I'm not.  
TG: omfg dirk  
TG: really?  
TT: Yeah.  
TG: for really reals????  
TT: Yes.  
TG: really really realyl reals????????  
TT: Yes, god damn it, yes.  
TT: I'm “doing” Jake English. For real. For “really reals.”  
TG: hold up a sec ur a bottom tho so isnt english doing u techncially?  
TG: *technically  
TT: Why does everyone just assume that I'm a bottom?  
TG: because you have a vibrator  
TT: How do you know about that?  
TG: EVERYONE knows about the vibrator dirk  
TT: Even Rose?  
TG: yup  
TT: How?  
TG: u seem like the type  
TG: also  
TG: dave mentioned it  
TT: That little shit!  
TG: lolololol  
TT: Roxy!  
TG: srry bby  
TG: neway  
TG: dirk listen to me alright  
TG: be careful around jake ok?  
TG: i dont want to see u get hurt  
TG: because if he hurts u ill kill him  
TT: Thanks, Roxy. I'll be careful.  
TG: you think im kidding dont you?  
TG: i really WILL hurt him if he does dirk  
TG: youre my best friend  
TG: and i love you  
TT: Aw, Rox.  
TT: Hold on.  
TT: Wait.  
TT: Something's happening.  
TT: I think I—  
TT: <3  
TG: !!!!!!  
TG: hehehehe <3  
TT: Love you, Roxy. I'll come by Sunday and we'll do something, okay?  
TG: im holding you to that bby  
TT: All right. I'm gonna go. I trust you'll tell Rose the news, right?  
TG: you know it  
TT: You're typing is coherent. Something wrong?  
TG: i lost my buzz  
TG: gotta fix that  
TT: Whatever. Just be sober on Sunday.  
TG: i will!  
TG: ttyl!  
TT: Bye Roxy.

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--

You let out a staggering sigh and slump down in your swivel chair. That went better than you thought it would.

You save the pesterlog for a later reading, feeling warmth in your heart as you glance at Roxy's words.

Roxy always has your back. You should be so lucky.

**== >**

Meanwhile, Roxy Lalonde exits off the chat after saving the log.

To be candid, she's worried. To be incredibly candid, she wants to go to English's house and threaten him herself.

“Rose!” she calls, rising slowly out of her chair.

Rose appears a few moments later, quiet, like a ninja. Roxy jumps a bit at the sound of her voice.

“Yes?” Rose inquires.

“Break out the wine,” Roxy says, sighing. “I have something big to tell you.”

“What is it?” she asks, tone never changing. Rose moves towards the vault where the expensive bottles are stored.

Roxy's visage is severe, grim. “Another worry on my mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, since this fic is turning out to be a long one and my break is over, I'll start posting progress on my tumblr (lovelettes.tumblr.com) along with some teasers maybe. I use the tag "ff tbc" for this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dirk contemplates Jake and Dave is drooled on.

The next time you saw Jake English, you had sex with him.

It was awkward, uncomfortable, almost laugh-worthy even. It hurt something awful too, which was surprising given your preparation. But Jake enjoyed it, and Jake, as you lay next to him in his too-luxurious bed (Egyptian cotton sheets with a 1500 thread count, he had mentioned) promised to you that he'd make it up to you.

And that's how you got into your current situation: sitting in the jacuzzi bathtub in Jake's bathroom on a Saturday afternoon with the owner sitting across from you, staring at you with hungry eyes.

You shift uncomfortably in the water, avoiding his gaze. You can see the steam rolling off the surface, fogging up the mirrors surrounding the room. You're glad for this: you don't really want to see your reflection, not with all the forming bruises from the bites down your back and up the sides of your neck.

Looks like you'll have to break out the turtlenecks.

Your eyes skim the room for the hundredth time. The water is still hot. The water is still calm. The heat of your cheeks is still present. The throbbing of your heart is still too quick. Your body still aches. Your eyes keep searching.

You meet Jake's eyes when you realize that there's nowhere else to look.

He's watching you carefully, eyes softer than you've ever seen them. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, hesitant, as if you're a doe that he's afraid of startling and scaring away. “How are you holding up?”

You notice the ghost of an accent in his voice. It's something that you haven't heard from him before.

“I'm all right,” you say. “Just a little sore.”

Jake laughs, and it's buoyant. “Oh, it'll be better the next time. Er, so I hear, I guess.” He rubs the back of his neck, a little sheepish. You blink at him in surprise. “You didn't last very long at the end, though. When I gave you that quickie handjob.”

“You came early. You're not allowed to say anything, English,” you tell him, raising a brow.

Jake flushes darkly. “Yeah, I, ahem, I should probably work on that.”

“Yeah,” you mumble, pulling your knees up to your chest, arms wrapping around them.

Lush green eyes stay on you. “Dirk.”

“Hm?”

“Can I—ah,” he mumbles. “Can I—shit.” There's the accent again, lightly highlighting his words. “Can you come here?”

He has an arm hanging around the back of the tub, and his smile is less confident and more nervous. He seems as far away to Jake English: Top of the Fucking Food Chain as possible. There's a sort of boyish charm there, and for the first time you notice that he's...he's young, just like you.

You move towards him wordlessly.

Inwardly, you're admonishing yourself. Not because you're moving towards him. Not because you're starting to see him differently. Not because you feel something tighten in your chest when he wraps his arm around your shoulder. No, not any of that.

It's because you've failed to see Jake as a person before now.

You lean your weight against him, and he looks down at you. But not _down_ at you. Somehow, that thought had never occurred to you.

And perhaps that's why you tilt your head back, lips parting, eyes closing, and grant him permission to kiss you like a lover would.

**== >**

Dave sighs. A puppy is following him, nipping at his heels, barking excitedly.

“What's cooking, good looking? No wait—shit, that was lame. Uh, let's see... Baby! You take my breath away! Wait, isn't that suppose to be the end of a pun or something? Uh...”

Said puppy is John Egbert.

Dave stops short, ignoring the failing come-ons of John Egbert: Ver. 2 of Jake English, and glances inside a record store. It's a perfect place for vintage snapshots. Slap a filter on that and boom: masterpiece. The Internet idiots will eat it up.

“Hey, Egbert!” Dave calls, glancing over his shoulder.

John stops his ramblings and looks up, hopeful.

Dave jerks a thumb towards the store. “If you want to be any help to me, bring you and your letterman jacket over here.”

John is of some use to him, if only for his nice hands and his jacket. Considering he just had to suffer through be tracked down and slobbered on by him, Dave figures that Egbert owes him one.

Positioning John is a little harder than he originally thought it would be. He has the tendency to move right as Dave is focusing the shot. He gets frustrated more than once with him, and nearly walks out of the store empty handed, with no precious gifts to give to the Internet. John drags him back in, promising to hold still.

Yep. Just like a puppy.

After the little impromptu photo shoot, Dave finds that he's stuck with him. And that's rather unfortunate. He was hoping to chill out in the food court and edit the photos he took. Dave grabs a table anyway and elects to block out John's presence.

But as he's tapping on his iPhone, John leans over him, bracing his hands on his shoulders, and begins to whine. “Hey, Striderrrrr...you wanna make outtttt?”

And Dave ignores him and his pleading in favor of fixing sepia over a particularly good shot of the letterman jacket and John's hands gripping an Elvis record.

Unfortunately for Dave, John takes his silence as an initiative and promptly attaches his lips to his neck, looping his arms around the front of his body.

He's awkward and inexperienced, Dave thinks idly as his fingers tap away at the glass screen, and he hasn't improved his technique since last night.

_Jesus fucking Christ, Egbert. Practice on a pillow or something._

John's making a mess of his neck, teeth biting all available skin, tongue lovingly drenching the expanse of flesh. At this rate, Dave will look like he was in a fight with some sort of kick boxer who only aims for the neck.

 _If those exist,_ he thinks, trying to stay focused on the task at hand.

Dave struggles to type the tags on the photos. If he was being candid with himself, it felt good. It was messy, yeah, but that didn't mean he didn't want to lean his head back, expose his throat, and fucking _moan_.

But he kept on ignoring John. He wouldn't show weakness to a guy like him.

That's what he told himself, at least. It wasn't much longer before Dave gave in. He would blame it on hormones later, like any sensible teenager, because there was no way he was consciously giving into John Egbert.

But for now, he tilted his head back and let John kiss him.

**== >**

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

TG: hiya janey!!!!!  
GG: ...Lalonde?  
TG: so listen up  
GG: Lalonde, I have cheer practice to get to. I don't have time for you right now.  
GG: How did you even get my chumhandle?  
TG: im a computer hacker janey i know these things  
TG: now listen the fuck up crocker  
TG: i have a warning for you to pass along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I told myself that I would hold off on posting this chapter until I finished the next...but...that obviously didn't happen. I really have no idea how long this fic will run, but I do have an ending in mind. It's just getting to the ending, you know? Also, I'll be adding pairings to the tags as they appear (or are hinted at) in story.
> 
> I'm going to be writing a Dirk-Roxy (moirails) oneshot at some point for my moirail. That will be the first in a series of oneshots. I wouldn't look forward to it yet though.
> 
> I post teasers on [my tumblr](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com/) as I'm working on chapters, by the way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which discoveries are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are stalking me on tumblr, aren't you? You should talk to me. I swear that I don't bite really hard.

When the water starts to cool, Jake turns the faucet on. You're really not sure how long you've been in there with him, soaking and leisurely frenching, but your skin is starting to prune.

You really don't want to let Jake go; you really don't want to go back to thinking about how deep this relationship (or lack there of) is starting to run.

You're scared of it, to be candid. Feelings have always scared you.

So you don't think about it. You wind your arms tighter around his neck and bring his lips back down to yours.

Jake shifts you onto his lap, mouth opening to you. He lets you dominate the kiss, and you slip your tongue—shyly, you note with a degree of embarrassment—into his mouth, sliding it against his.

It feels different, you being in control of the kiss. In reality, you never really noticed how Jake dominated the kisses between the two of you. But he had. He did.

Now you are.

Your hands slip from his neck and take a hold of his face, palms cradling his cheeks, pressing your mouth and your body closer, harder against him. You bite his lower lip, nibbling softly, heart rate increasing. You open your mouth to him this time, allowing him to momentarily take back the reigns. His tongue invades your mouth for only a fleeting second before you pull away, panting, resting your forehead against his.

You stare into his eyes, and they're half-glazed and the pupils are blown wide with desire. You smile at him, and the action prompts him to grasp your cheeks to hold you in place while he plants small kisses all over your face. Something that sounds suspiciously like a giggle slips from your lips.

You're drunk. You're high from Jake, Jake, Jake. Jake and his tanned skin. Jake and his green eyes. Jake and his faint accent. Jake and his almost _loving_ touches. Jake.

_Jake._

“Jake...” you whisper, and you realize that it's the first time you've called him by his name. Something inside you twists and warms your body. “Jake...”

“Jake!”

You both freeze. The sound of a third voice—feminine and harsh—sends fear up your spine.

“Jake!” the voice frustratedly calls again.

Jake groans and rests his head on your shoulder. “It's Jade,” he tells you.

You hear heels clicking against the cherry wood of the hall. She's close. Another step of footsteps, quieter and squeaky, follows close behind.

You remember suddenly that the door isn't locked, and a stab of fear strikes you.

You make a move to remove yourself from Jake's lap, but his hands grasp your hips and hold you in place.

“Jake, damn it, _answer_ me!” Jade yells.

You struggle against him. “The door isn't—”

“I know.”

“Then we should—”

“Let them find us.”

You give him an incredulous look, one filled with silent horror. “You're insane. This is suppose to be under wraps—”

He kisses you hard, and it's over in a minute. It's effective in garnering your attention. “Your friends know. Shouldn't mine?”

You blink, eyes flicking down before they meet his again. “That's different. Your friends are...”

“ _Jake_ , goddamn it!”

“Douchebags?” He arches a brow. “I know. But they're still my friends. They're _my_ douchebags.”

You sigh, exasperated. “But _your_ friends won't understand...” You gesture between the two of you. “...this.”

“Do you?” he asks, and you're confused beyond belief.

Jake uses your temporary bemusement and runs the water again, alerting them to your position.

You fumble to shut off the faucet, arms desperately reaching past him. But Jake holds you in place, thumbs drawing soothing circles on your hip bones. He shuts off the water when the footsteps grow closer and more determined.

“Jake, you—” you begin, but his lips silence you.

You're not okay with this. You're _not_. You're not comfortable with his friends knowing that...thinking that...that you're a...

_Am I a whore?_

No, you think. _No_. You're not lacking morals; you're not sleeping with several different people; you're not loose. You're liberated.

 _Liberated_. It's a lovely word. A strong word.

You are a sexually liberated person, and damn it you're _proud_ of that. So what if Jade Harley thinks you're some sort of slut? You know better. Who the fuck is she to you, and why would you even care about her opinion? You're sleeping with the guy you willingly gave your virginity to, a guy who gives a damn about you, and you're feeling good. Content.

You kiss Jake back as the door opens.

“Answer me when I'm talking to—holy _shit_.” Jade freezes in the doorway, expression somewhere between bewilderment and disgust.

The person trailing Jade nudges her aside, revealing herself to be Jane Crocker straight from Saturday cheer practice. “What? What?” she cries before he eyes find the two of you. “Is he—oh my _god_.”

You fight to keep the heat from crawling to your cheeks as you break away from Jake's kiss. It's pretty fucking embarrassing being walked in on like this.

“Lalonde was right!” Jane exclaims, blue eyes wide open.

Hold up. Lalonde?

“Wait.” You look at her intently. “'Lalonde'? As in Roxy?”

Jane nods her head enthusiastically, eyes still wide. “Yeah! Lalonde told me to pass on a warning to Jake. Something like 'I'll fucking kill you if you hurt Dirk' and all of that. I mean, I don't even know how she got my chumhandle or anything or why she would ask me to do this. But it was Lalonde.”

“Aw, hell no.” You move off Jake. “Turn your heads. This isn't a free show.”

Jade and Jane avert their eyes just before you rise from the water. You grope for a towel for a few seconds before locating one, wrapping it around your waist and exiting the tub.

“Jake. Where are my pants?”

“In my room somewhere.” He shrugs and you turn away.

You open the door connecting the private (not so private now, is it?) bath to his bedroom. You can feel Jade and Jane's gazes on you the entire time. You locate your pants with relative ease and dig through the pockets for your phone.

You have some _things_ to say to a certain friend of yours.

Hey Rox.

You're fucking dead, kid.

**== >**

Rose watches calmly as her sister types hysterically on her phone, sipping her coffee, nonchalantly observing the passing shoppers.

It appears as though the Lalondes' shopping outing is being cut short.

“Dirk's mad! Dirk's mad! Oh shit, oh _shit_ ,” Roxy cries as her fingers fly on the screen.

“Shall I assume that this involves your roundabout warning to Jake English via one Jane Crocker?” Rose inquires, arching a brow.

“I need a fucking drink,” Roxy says, and that's the international sign that Rose is correct in her assumptions.

“Were you hoping that this wouldn't get back to him?” Rose continues, “Or did you intentionally inform Jane of their shenanigans in order to make Jake's friends aware of their little... _relationship_ , if you will, in hopes that it would break up the union?”

Roxy pauses in her typing, eyes the sweet color of cotton candy staring at her sister through the barrier of her glasses. She looks despaired. “I'm a shitty friend, Rose.” She sits her phone down and leans her forehead into her palm. “I wasn't trying to break them up... I just...I figured that if we know, Jake's friends should too. It's kind of like a balance. It's also...it puts less pressure on him if they know.”

“Because Dirk would constantly be worried about getting caught,” Rose states.

“Ex _actly_.”

Rose has to admit it: Roxy tried. She had tried and failed. Or perhaps she had tried and succeeded if she could make Dirk understand her reasoning.

And Roxy was right: Dirk was prone to over-thinking things and becoming disquieted, even if he didn't let it show on the surface.

“Shit!” Roxy has her phone again. “Dirk wants me to come to Jake's ASAP. Oh, god. I can't stand it when he's mad at me.”

Rose takes another sip of her coffee, eyes the wandering people again, and notices a friend in the food court.

She sits the cup down. “Then go. Explain to Dirk why you did what you did. Explain the logic behind it. Explain.”

“I can't leave you here, Rose,” Roxy says, but she's packing up her purse and gathering her shopping bags. “I'm your ride.”

“Don't fret over me. Besides...” Rose's lips quirk up slightly. “...I happen to see a certain young Strider with an Egbertian attachment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More characters are slowly being added, as well as pairings.
> 
> Regarding the update: we don't know the situation between Dirk and Jake. Are they even dating? We just don't know. Is it Dirk that Jake's sighing over? We just don't know. We might be jumping the gun in these assumptions. (I hope we are.) STRENGTH my dears!
> 
> [My tumblr.](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com/)


	7. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a new perspective is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to write something like this, okay? I'm drowning in feelings right now, and I need a hug.

**Be Mr. Popular.**

You are now Jake English and please don't use that name. You don't particularly care for that little nickname.

To be candid, you hate it.

It stings a little every time you hear that little insult spew from someone's lips; not everyone is in love with the “popular” kids. It's not like you ever even _wanted_ this position. You just kind of...you just kind of fell into it.

You see, when you have the sort of friends that you have, if affects you. It limits you. It distorts the public's perception of you. You were seen as a douche, hung out with similarly afflicted people, so you decided to play the part.

But you had to admit, even though it was tiring, it was a damn fun part to play. You've always had a hidden sadistic streak, and by doing what was expected of you—acting like a dick—you get the chance to experiment with that part of your personality.

It was all fun and games, all of that dickery was good and well. Up until your eyes first drank in the vision that was Dirk Strider, that is.

You had heard about the Striders and the Lalondes. They had their own little clique and were quite well-known themselves. They were the “cool losers” or the “popular nerds” or any variation of that. They were smart, notorious for being above the rest of your peers, above the influence of the food chain.

And yet they were on it. And they were pretty fucking high on it, whether they knew it or not. They still are.

The first time you started to pay attention to them and the talk surrounding them was when John started asking you for advice on how to woo the young Strider, Dave. You taught him the ropes, showed him how to bat his eyelashes and smirk correctly and come up with irresistible pick-up lines. But John is John. He's simply too awkward to be a smooth operator like a gentleman such as yourself.

There was the day that you accompanied him for moral support because, hey, that's what friends are for. That was the very day you met Dirk Strider. That was the very day you found that being who you are wasn't what it was all cracked up to be.

Your eyes devoured the sight of him instantaneously, breath absent from your lungs, heart rate spiking.

You believe in love at first sight, no matter how shallow the notion seems.

The elder Strider was a stunner: flaxen hair, creamy white skin, a splash of freckles splayed across his cheeks and nose, and his eyes... Those _eyes_ of his! Their vivid color and burning depths drove you wild.

Dirk Strider was—still is—a sight for sore eyes, and you told him as much in the smoothest way you knew how. You had thrown an arm over his shoulder, leaned in close, and tacked on “babe” at the end of your come-on.

But he spurned your advances with a quiet sentence: “Please leave me alone, English.”

It had sounded polite, the words had, but the tone of voice was harsh, annoyed. It hurt both your pride and your heart.

You made an effort to learn as much as you could about this Strider guy.

He was into robotics. He liked anime. He's won big at several national science fairs. He made straight A's. He was known to be quiet. His best friend was Roxy Lalonde, and the two were extremely close and were often mistaken to be a couple.

With each little tidbit you received, you found yourself falling deeper into the hole with no chance of escape.

It only occurred to you recently to take an honest approach, and that day you followed him to the library, you fully intended to do just that.

But you chickened out as soon as you saw him and reverted back to the persona you and your peers had created for you. It was a familiar character, comfortable, a crutch. It made you burn inside with shame and hatred. You had been playing the role for so long that you had forgotten what it was like to act human.

Beneath that identity, you were sincere. You showed humility coupled with cockiness, made your feelings known through words that sounded generic when filtered through your artificial voice. You've had been hiding your accent for awhile now. You've been keeping it controlled, formal, attractive. You were sure that your very real cockney accent would pale in comparison to your contrived posh one and that your coolness level would drop.

After that incident in the library, you were sure that Dirk—no matter how much he obviously enjoyed it—wouldn't want to talk to you, let alone see you. But then he had surprised you with his offer of becoming not-quite-friends with benefits. That was okay for now.

For _now_.

**== >**

You couldn't control yourself, your thrusts, your lust, your love. Your rhythm was erratic, hips stuttering, hands fumbling.

Today was the day you lost your virginity. Today was the day Dirk lost his virginity. Today was the day you hope to win his heart through the union of your bodies.

You don't think you succeeded. You were artless and clumsy. Somehow, the ease of which the two of you got off yesterday was missing in those moments.

You were ashamed that you lost yourself. You felt guilty when you climaxed early while Dirk writhed in discomfort beneath you. And as much as you wanted to hold him and kiss him gently afterward, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. You were bashful around him, in a way. It was easier to let him think that you were a complete asshole than to let him see you bumble around and fall over yourself.

You finally built up your nerve while you were soaking in the tub with him. You cuddled with him briefly, and you got to cover him with gentle kisses that you hoped conveyed exactly what you were feeling.

Everything was perfect, but then reality crashed around you when you heard Jade's voice calling from the hall. You were irritated that your potential progress with Dirk was being interrupted, but you didn't let it show.

You realized that there was an opening in this interruption: if Jade knew, if your friends knew like Dirk's friends, this entire thing would seem more... _tangible_. If people could get on board with the idea of the two of you together, then maybe, just maybe, Dirk could too.

So you ran the water, comforted him when you saw that he was getting worked up, and allowed Jade and Jane to walk in on you.

Doesn't get much more tangible than that.

As it turned out, Jane had come to deliver a warning from Roxy Lalonde. Your first thought was that you had a potential romantic rival, but you dismissed it. Your sources had reported that they were like siblings and that Roxy had another romantic pursuit, though they didn't know who it was.

While Dirk was getting dressed and chewing out his friend, Jade stared you down. Her gaze was harsh, but also a little hurt. Her expression, to someone who knew her as well as you did, said, “Why didn't you tell me, you ass?”

Jane was simply bewildered.

Dirk came back to the private bath, dressed and pissed off. He informed you that Roxy was coming by and that you should probably get dressed.

And that led you to the present: sitting at the dining room table beside Dirk as Jade and Jane watches the two of you carefully.

The silence leaves you alone with your thoughts, and that's always hazardous.

Your eyes turn to Dirk, and your mind drifts to the two of you.

It stings to think that all you are to Dirk is a fuck buddy; it stings even more than “Mr. Popular.” But you won't give up on him. You can see that his heart is in need just like yours, and you're determined to fill the empty space in his so that you may complete yours.

You have time. It's still early in this pseudo-relationship.

And besides, Dirk is softening. Warming up to you. Under the table, hidden away from Jade and Jane's insistent staring, you're holding his hand and he's holding yours.

**End of Intermission.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. We jumped the gun, assumed that they were dating and Dirk was being "clingy." How...how were we right about that?
> 
> Moving on.
> 
> Um. I hope you liked this little intermission :)
> 
> [My tumblr.](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which apologies are made and teasing prevails.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I delete the PWP tag now or...?

You've never been too sure on what the relation between Jake English and Jade Harley is. You didn't know if they were siblings or cousins or something else; it simply never occurred to you to ponder this. But when you look at them, the resemblance is strong. Their tan skin and dark hair and the structure of their faces are similar. They both have green eyes, but Jade's was brighter and Jake's is richer.

You think that Jake's eyes are nicer than Jade's.

You sit next to Jake at the elongated glass dining room table, Jade and Jane eying the both of you from the other end. There's no food, no dinner. Just the silence and the atmosphere of formality stifling you.

It's not even three o'clock yet.

“So, Jake,” Jade begins. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Jake's face contorts into mild abhorrence. “Excuse me? I don't have anything to say for myself because I'm not ashamed. If you're trying to find some way to get leverage on me, go look somewhere else.”

He squeezes your hand, and his words warm you from the inside. You squeeze his back.

Jade folds her arms and leans back, brow furrowed. “So...what? You're dating Strider? He's your little boyfriend?”

He hesitates. “Well...no. Not exactly. We...ah...”

“It's a 'friends with benefits' sort of thing,” you interject in an attempt to help him out.

There's something like hurt that ghosts Jake's features. You feel a little guilty for doing that, but the truth was the truth. Sometimes the truth hurt.

Jade scoffs and does an obnoxious hair toss. Her eyes settle on you, and you see disdain glimmering. “So you're his fucktoy?”

Sometimes the truth hurts you as well.

Jake releases your hand and slams his palms onto the table. You, as well as Jade and Jane, jump slightly in surprise. Jake stands up, eyes narrow and boring into Jade's.

“He is _not_ a fucktoy!” he snarls. “You take that back and apologize!”

“Jake, calm down,” Jade says, unaffected. But you see a note of surprise in her eyes. “What else is there to call this—”

“A courting,” Jake cuts her off. “A twisted, backwards, fucked-up courting. Dirk is my paramour, my lover, my potential _boyfriend_ , and as such, he will be treated with respect! Do you understand me?”

Jade opens her mouth. “Jake—”

“ _Do you understand me?_ ”

Jade blinks, eyes wide as Jane's, and nods slowly. “Yeah. Sure. I'm just...a little thrown off by all of...this.”

“You'll just have to get used to 'this' then,” Jake tells her, sitting back down. He lifts his arm and wraps it around the back of your chair; he looks at you, wordlessly asking if this is okay.

You frown at him, and he starts to pull his arm away, frowning as well, but you snatch it before it's gone and pull it around your shoulders. It's a silent way of saying “thank you, you did good” and a way to say “I'm seriously considering your offer.”

It's strange; you've only been involved in this pseudo-relationship for literally a day, but something about his offer is attractive. Something about the idea of being _in_ a relationship with him is attractive.

His arm around you feels right.

You push this train of thought to the back of your mind when you hear the front door slam open.

“Diiiiirk! Diiiiiiirk! Di-Stri, where are youuuuu?”

It's Roxy, and although your feelings about her actions have dulled, you feel a little knot of anger form in your stomach. There's relief there as well, more predominant than any sort of negativity. Roxy is here, and Roxy can take your mind off your stirring feelings for Jake English.

Her sneakers squeak against the hardwood. She's calling your name, steps becoming quicker, more insistent. She appears in the doorway to the dining room moments later. “Di-Stri!” she exclaims, and she looks disheveled and upset.

You stand up, Jake's arm falling from your shoulders, and turn to her. Roxy surges forward and throws herself onto you, arms around your neck, face buried in your chest. She's silent, and that worries you. Roxy always has something to say; you can't stop her mouth from running.

Maybe you were too hard on her.

“Rox? Hey, Ro-lal...” You hug her back gently. “I'm not mad, you know. I'm not mad at you.”

She tilts her head back to look at you. Her glasses are skewed. “But I'm...I'm a shitty friend. I told Jane when you told me not to say anything. I didn't listen to you.”

“Do you ever?” You say, half chuckling. “Besides, you _must_ have a good reason for it. You usually do.”

“I...I do have a reason.” She's a little surprised by how easygoing you are.

“Let's hear it then.”

“I just wanted to take some stress off you. Keeping this a secret from Jake's friends and all of that _has_ to be weighing on your mind. And don't give me that look, Dirk! I know it is! I know how you are!” She sighs. “I...just wanted to help you. I knew you wouldn't do it yourself. I knew you would opt to worry and suffer in silence,” Roxy explains. Her eyes drop. “So...you mad?”

And now that Jade and Jane knew, and that Jake laid everything out on the table, you feel relieved. Sure, Jade will still look at you with an expression of disapproval, but she couldn't snarl an insult. She couldn't try to make your life hell.

You had immunity from his friends, from their harshness. You had approval from Jane and from John, most likely. Jade would keep her lips sealed.

Roxy just tossed almost all your worries from your plate. The only problem you had now was something that she couldn't take on.

You're lucky. You're so un-fucking-believably lucky to have Roxy. To have Dave and Rose too.

Guilt stings you.

You sigh and hug her a little tighter, allowing yourself to smile. Jake, Jade, and Jane are watching the two of you, but you don't care. You're showing them—Jade, actually—what _actual_ friends are like. “No, I'm not. You're the best friend a person could ask for, Rox. Thank you. I'm sorry that I got all pissed off at you.”

Roxy laughs and tells you how relieved she is. You crush her to you, picking her up and swinging her around. She squeals and laughs harder. Her noises of delight make you feel better.

As her feet make contact with the floor, she wipes the tears from her eyes, a mischievous smirk lighting up her features. “Sooooo...are you going to introduce me to Mr. Ass Rammer himself or not?”

“Roxy!” you say, face burning.

Roxy laughs again and Jake, despite how red his ears are, laughs with her.

It's a comforting sound.

**== >**

“I must say...I never pegged you for an exhibitionist, Strider,” Rose says as she sits down at Dave's table in the ever-buzzing food court.

Dave immediately elbows John Egbert in the chest, effectively breaking the contact between his neck and John's mouth. “This isn't what it looks like,” Dave says calmly.

Rose scans his neck, finding teeth marks and red spots that foretell of bruises to come. She arches a brow at him. “Oh? And what am I looking at?”

Dave huffs and wraps his scarf around his neck more tightly, covering the marks. “I told you, Lalonde, _nothing_.”

Rose smirks slightly at him and fights the urge to tease him. She loves to antagonize Dave: it's one of her hobbies. It's not her fault that Dave takes the bait and gets worked up so easily. It's a little mean, she supposes, but it's all in good fun. Besides, Dave does the same to her.

“Hi, Rose!” John greets, grinning and wiping stray saliva from his mouth.

“Hello, John,” Rose returns, smiling. “I trust you are well?”

John grins at her, still standing behind Dave with his arms encircling his neck. “More than well!”

Rose gives him a knowing nod. “I can see that.” Her eyes flicker to Dave's. “And my darling Dave? How are you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Rose,” Dave says.

“Rude. I was just inquiring the condition of your neck—ah, I mean your _well-being_.” She smiles tightly, trying to suppress a small laugh. She succeeds in her endeavor, as per usual, but loses the battle against _not_ teasing him.

“It was really fucking good until you showed up.”

Rose is taken back by his honesty but doesn't miss a beat. “If you would rather carry on with your exhibitionism, I can point you to this lovely little place called the roof of the mall.” She points upwards. “You see? There are skylights. All the shoppers have to do is look up and _hello_.”

Dave is beginning to turn red. “Rose!”

John laughs—a noise that sounds a little higher, more like a giggle—and hugs Dave from behind. “I like that idea!”

“Egbert!” Dave swats at him and wriggles in his grip.

“What?” John looks offended by his struggling. “You're my boyfriend, aren't you?”

“ _No_.”

“Aw, come _on_ , Dave! Even after I left all of those hickeys on your neck? Those are, like, marks or something!”

“I'm not your property, Egbert! Now lay off me.”

“But Daaaaaave...”

“No!”

As they continue to argue, Rose rests her cheek in her palm, smiling and looking on. She has the feeling that Dave will follow in his brother's footsteps or, perhaps, will skip the complicated emotions that come with sex without strings and go straight for a relationship—the correct order.

Rose, to be candid, thinks that these two could have a nice future together. She keeps this to herself.

“Dave,” she says. “I need a ride home.”

“Fuck you, Rose.”

“I'll take that as a yes.”

**== >**

Jake drove you and Roxy home later that afternoon after you declined his dinner invitation (for which Roxy kicked you under the table). He dropped Roxy off first, and you practically fucking glowed when she kissed you on the cheek and reminded you that you and her were suppose to do something tomorrow.

It's great to be on the good side with your friends, and it's great to have barely any weight on your shoulders.

You smile and feel a bit of anticipation for tomorrow as Jake walks you to your door. You pause in front of the door and turn to him, your smile turning just a bit sheepish.

“Is there any chance that I'll get to see the _real_ Jake English?” you ask. You've only seen hints up until now, and you've liked what you've seen.

“If you're lucky,” he says, and he chuckles in a way that's almost dorky. “Does that up my chances of dating you?”

“Being real with someone always does.” You smile warmly at him because you can't help yourself. He's endearing. You say, “I would consider dating the real you, if I knew what that was like.”

And then Jake's arms surround you, and you're engulfed in a tight embrace that isn't romantic, only friendly and relieved and excited. He pulls back and looks into your eyes and unleashes what is possibly the goofiest grin you've ever had the pleasure of viewing.

“I'll take that as a challenge,” he says, and his accent transitions from a practiced posh to a soft cockney. “It'll be an adventure.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the latest update (12/1/12): I love Jane, Dirk must have the patience of a fucking saint, and Jake is a hypocrite and don't know it. Goddamn it, Jake. I did laugh the entire way through, though.
> 
> On a writing perspective, Hussie has done a wonderful job in making his characters flawed and _human_. That is what Jake is, and what Dirk is. Human. I still love them both. And Jane...bless her.
> 
> Next chapter will introduce a new potential pairing.
> 
> [My tumblr.](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Roxy sets her eyes on a target and so does Dirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was busy, so there was a little delay on putting this up. Sorry!

A rare twist of fate: the sudden urge to sit on the bleachers and bathe in the sun hits Roxy Lalonde one afternoon of the week. At the same time, cheer practice is about to start, having been moved to the lush green field because of the lovely weather. On the field, warming up, is Jane Crocker.

Roxy sits quietly in the empty stands, watching Jane as she stretches in preparation for the acrobatic pirouettes or some shit she's about to perform. Her mouth twitches into a smile when Jane looks up, notices her, and waves a bit in a shy manner. Roxy waves back with uncharacteristic bashfulness.

That girl has a good heart, Roxy thinks. She's not quite as shallow as her friends, just a little on the—perceived as by some—ditzy side.

Jane leans back on her palms and raises a leg as far as she can straight up in the air. Her eyes are closed, her back creates an arc, and her legs extend.

That girl also has a kicking body, Roxy thinks. Jane's all curves, voluptuous with a hint of athleticism. She probably feels good to touch, to grope, to kiss, and Roxy starts to find her mind wandering.

There's always been something about Jane that she's liked. Her eyes, for one. Her smile, secondly. Her obfuscated stupidity (something that dearest Dirk had pointed out to her one day right before launching into a mini-rant about how some people use the act to get what they want) as well. Roxy had also noted Jane's tendency to get fired up—in ways that are both good and bad. There was strength in Jane that no one else could or cared to see. There was also a deeper side to her, as there is to most humans. She wanted to know that side.

Roxy admits that her crush on the cheerleading lass stems from wanting to spark a friendship between the two of them. They share brief glances in the halls, trade hellos in classrooms, smile when they pass each other out of the school setting, sometimes chatting momentarily about unimportant yet important things.

There's no reason why they couldn't be friends—no legitimate reasons, at least. The yearning for friendship with Jane is strong, vivid, pulsing in Roxy, the desire for romance and passion even more so.

When cheer practice comes to a conclusion, Roxy waits for her on the track, leaning against the fence, smiling as Jane approaches.

Jane smiles back, and it's genuine. Roxy's happy to see that she likes her—perhaps not in that way, sadly—well enough too.

“Hey, Lalonde!” she greets.

“Hiya, Janey!” Roxy says, smile turning into a full-blown grin. “You know you can call me 'Roxy,' right? My friends call me that.” Hint. “Sometimes it's 'Rox' or 'Ro-lal.' Either is fine, really.”

She feels a little giddy.

Jane shifts her duffel bag over her shoulder. “All right then, _Roxy_.” She raises her eyebrows in an almost suggestive manner, jokingly, of course. Roxy giggles at her, and she giggles at Roxy.

The other cheerleaders walk on past, some glancing at the pair with confusion, some ignoring both.

“Jane!” one of them calls. “Why are you talking to Lalonde?”

Jane's smile drops, and she looks pasts Roxy and at the girl with a glare. “Because fuck you! After cheer practice is over, I am _not_ your friend.”

The girl slinks away, a little shocked, a little disheartened.

“Damn, girl. Got some fire in ya,” Roxy says, nudging her shoulder with her hand.

Jane smiles, cheeks flushing something beautiful. “Oh, stop.” Her hand finds her forearm, holding it gently in a sweet and coy gesture. “Did you need something, Roxy?”

Roxy quickly decides that her name on Jane's lips is a sound she'll never get tired of. “Yeah,” Roxy says, “I was thinking that we could...hang out? At my house. I was actually kind of wondering if you knew how to bake. You see, there's this recipe I saw online that I want to try, but Rose kind of banned me from the oven...”

Something in Jane's eyes light up with interest. Roxy once heard that she does most of the baking for the cheer squads annual bake sale and figured that this would be a good tactic. She was right. It's a pleasurable thought.

Jane nods. “Of course! N-now, you mean? I can do that. I just—hold on. Let me just text my dad...he worries sometimes...” She fumbles with her phone, face blooming with excitement and pink.

Roxy thinks that maybe, just maybe, this might develop into something.

As Roxy walks together with Jane, she skips on ahead, turning backwards and laughing as she asks her, “Tell me, Janey, got a boyfriend enjoying that flexibility?”

Jane sputters and blushes. Roxy giggles.

**== >**

It's early in the afternoon, and you're lounging on the couch, browsing through the channels in an attempt to keep your mind clear. You've been seeing Jake for the past few days, but the two of you haven't talked about your apparently evolving feelings. Nor have the two of you gotten physical. It's disappointing, to be candid. You're starting to become comfortable with the notion of dating Jake English—the real one, the one that had the capacity to be as sweet as fucking sugar, not the off-brand sweet-n-low one.

There's also the matter of your libido. As you've come to realize, there are times that you can be insatiable. But you hadn't touched yourself since you gave your virginity to Jake just as a sort of self-punishment. Punishment for being a bullheaded idiot when it comes to him.

Your phone chimes, and on the screen is a text from Jake.

Knock knock.

Before you can send a reply, someone—presumably Jake—knocks on the door. You stand up a bit too quickly and force yourself to relax and walk a little slower. Can't seem to eager to see him.

But you're excited to see him, spend time with him. You're like a fucking dog greeting its owner after they've been gone for a few hours. Heat—embarrassment—floods you for a moment before your hand is on the knob. When you turn it, the clicking jolts you back into reality.

“How are you doing, mate?” Jake asks. He holds up a shopping bag and rattles the contents. “I thought we could have a little movie _date_.

The emphasis on the word “date” makes you smile a bit as you step aside and let him in. You notice that his accent is natural today, just as it has been since you first heard it in its naked glory.

You lead Jake over to the couch and take a seat, gesturing to him join you.

“What movies did you bring?” you ask.

Jake sits beside you and begins rifling through the bag, pulling out several DVD cases and tossing them onto the coffee table. “Oh, all of the classics: _Bond_ films, _Tomb Raider_ , all of the _Indiana Jones_ movies. I have _Avatar_ too.”

You cock a brow at him, fighting a grin. “You have a thing for adventure?”

“Maybe.” He flushes slightly and picks up _Goldfinger_. “This one okay?”

You nod.

He pops the DVD in and settles in next to you, draping an arm nervously around your shoulder. He’s tense up until you lean into him.

He feels nice, you feel nice. This is just...nice.

You're partway through the film and there’s exploding shit on the screen when your cell phone alerts you. Bubblegum pink lights up your screen.

im gonna get laid dirk im making this happen

You raise a brow at the text. Perhaps Roxy was finally making a move on Crocker. You hope to god that it all works out for her.

Judging from text, it is. If she isn't jumping the gun, that is.

Jake shifts beside you, bringing your attention to him. He's looking straight ahead, gaze trained on the television, face alight with interest. Your eyes rake over him slowly, a twinge of desire stirring beneath your skin.

You tap out a response. 

Yeah. Me too.

An immediate response pops up.

;)

You shift until you're in his lap, and you find that Jake doesn't mind that you're interrupting the movie date.

**== >**

Maybe Roxy was getting ahead of herself when she said she was going to get laid. If anything, all she was going to get was some vanilla kissing and a little groping.

Not that she's complaining.

Jane was helping her make the cake when Roxy started a little icing fight which ultimately ended with her planting her lips onto Jane's. Roxy had pulled back, afraid that she had overstepped her boundaries, but Jane rocked forward and lightly kissed her, unsure but excited.

 _Long time coming,_ Roxy thinks, _considering how much fucking tension there was. Cuttin' it with a knife right now._

She and Jane were always on the brink of becoming friends, it seemed, and by the time friendship seemed plausible—possible—Roxy was nursing a crush on her.

This was more than she could ever dream of.

Jane pulls back, expression soft and pink and pretty. “Roxy, I...didn't think you felt that way.” Her voice is softer.

Roxy opens her mouth to make a joke, but the words don't come. Instead, she smiles as brightly and as confidently as she can. She's feeling weak in the knees all because of a few brief kisses—pecks, really.

Jane's mouth curves into a sweet smile, and she rests her forehead on Roxy's. “Listen,” she says, “I want to thank you.”

Roxy is confused. “For what?”

“For inviting me over and...becoming my friend. Although, I'm pretty sure friends don't kiss each other like that...”

Roxy giggles from the wave of nervousness. “Then be my girlfriend, Crocker.”

“Kiss me again and I'll say yes.”

She does, and it's sweet and slow and perfect. It's everything Roxy wants, everything that Jane needs, and everything that the world is working tirelessly to make happen.

That's how Roxy feels, anyway. It's fate, she believes. She berates herself for being such a sap and for being a sucker for blue eyes.

Jane's eyes dart to the oven suddenly, and then she's screaming about the cake burning.

**== >**

You brace yourself on the couch with your knees and elbows, lube dripping from your ass, as Jake sinks into you slowly. You groan and sigh, a mixture of stinging and bliss hitting you at once. Jake leans down over you, kissing your neck, inquiring about your current state.

“S'okay,” you say.

“S'okay?”

“S'okay.”

You feel filled, body burning and aching with need and want and—

_Fuck Jake just do something already!_

He remains still, and you can practically hear him gnawing on his lip. You take the initiative and grind back on him, eliciting a surprised groan from deep in his throat. But he still doesn't move a muscle.

“L-like that,” he stutters. “Do it like that.”

You rock your hips forward, pulling away from him, and slam back with force, moaning at the burn, at the shock of pleasure you experience as his cock just brushes past your prostate. You repeat this action, thrusting back onto him with vigor. Jake grips your hips, pulling you harder back onto his cock, hovering over you, kissing and biting your neck, moaning in your ear, whispering fucking _compliments_.

You surge back suddenly, knocking him to his ass with the force of your thrust. He's still inside of you when you lower yourself down onto him, your back flush against his broad chest. You rise and buck back down on him in one smooth motion, setting a hard, fast pace.

Jake's hands are all over you: one moment he's digging his nails into your hips, the next he's sliding his hands up and down your chest, tweaking your nipples, and then he's grasping you, stroking your dick in rhythm with your bouncing.

Your moans are loud enough to alert the neighbors, his are too, but you can't seem to find it in you to care. Let them call and rant at you about noise pollution and disturbing the peace.

Jake suddenly pulls you against him hard, grasping your thighs, lifting them and scissoring them apart. He keeps you suspended there, and you're starting to feel extremely exposed. This was a position that you thought only occurred in porn, not in real life. You're unsure of how you feel.

And then Jake thrusts up into you, and your eyes roll back and your head lolls to one side. There's goosebumps raised on your skin, and you're beginning to like this position a _whole_ lot.

And through your gasps and moans and his pants and groans, his words are barely audible.

“God, I love you.”

**== >**

“The fuck would you know about _relationships_ , Rose?” Dave questions as he walks home with Rose.

Rose has been essentially antagonizing—teasing, really—him about his little public escapade with John. It really didn't help that John had proclaimed that he was his boyfriend and attached himself to him from there after.

“Quite a bit, it seems,” she says, smirking a bit. “More than you, at least. You know, not everyone lets someone leave hickeys on their neck just 'because.'”

“That was a one time thing,” Dave grumbles, subconsciously tightening his scarf.

“And yet there are fresh ones,” Rose says, and her smile is Cheshire-esque.

He chokes on absolutely nothing. “How did you—“

“Precognitive skills.”

“I don't believe in that shit.”

“You should.”

“I _don't_.”

“Your loss, Dave.”

“Whatever.” Dave makes a gesture with his hand, waving her off as they enter the apartment building. “You don't know anything about this stuff. You've never had a relationship, and you've never had anyone hitting on you constantly.”

“You wound me, Dave.” A slight frown, faked, graces her lips. “And I must correct you. Your assumptions are entirely false: I'm in possession of Kanya Maryam's phone number and chumhandle.”

Dave stops in front of the elevator. “What? Since when?”

Rose blinks slowly, a smile teasing her lips. “Since she gave it to me.”

Up was down, down was up, left was right, and vice versa. What the actual fuck.

“Since when is that bitch able to see past clothes and shit?” Dave questions, staring incredulously as they board the elevator.

“Since she decided that she liked my ass—”

“What.”

“—to be perfectly honest.”

“ _What_.”

Rose shakes her head at him and sighs. “Don't shift the focus to me, Dave. We're suppose to be talking about _your_ relationship, not _mine_.”

“Screw you, Rose. I don't _have_ a relationship with John Egbert, as you seem to think.”

Dave is tired of thinking about John Egbert and his stupid face and his stupid teeth and the stupid marks he left on his neck and stupid Rose for suggesting anything and getting his mind on the path that was marked _Sex_. Sex with Egbert. Ugh. That's appealing, and he hates himself for feeling that way about the subject.

Dave reaches the door to his apartment. As he enters, he turns to Rose and says, “I'm so tired of hearing this, Rose. Let's just stop right—the _fuck_!”

Dave sees more of his brother and Jake English than he ever wants to see and doesn't stick around to witness their reaction, to to see the big finish, or to feel the awkwardness unfold. He shoves Rose out the door and slams it behind them.

“Quick, Rose, show me your tits! Burn that image out of my eyes!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like cottoncandy ;)
> 
> Just a reminder, I add pairing tags as the pairings appear so that I don't spoil anything.
> 
>  
> 
> [My tumblr.](http:..lovelettes.tumblr.com)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dirk makes a decision.

Three months into sort-of-dating Jake English, he decided to take you on a road trip. When you asked him just where he was planning on taking you, he didn't respond and instead claimed it was a surprise.

You really hope this surprise doesn't involve you with your skull split open and your body being buried in a desert somewhere.

You fall asleep in the front seat of his Porsche, which was easy to do with the radio set on a quiet hum and your seat reclining back.

You drift into a relaxed slumber, head filled with dreams of you and Jake, you and Jake together in the most innocent of ways, hands interlinked, heads leaned together. It makes your dreaming self blush and your waking self stir.

Jake English plagues your thoughts always, and that's terrifying to you.

The sky is dark, the headlights of the Porsche shining on an empty road. You rub your eyes and put your glasses back on. The radio is still humming along, and Jake's eyes are still watching the road. He nods briefly to acknowledge you.

You're sitting up and fixing your seat back when your phone alerts you. It's a call, not a text, from Roxy. Sighing, you answer it.

“Hey,” you say, voice thick with sleep.

“ _Oh my gawd, Dirky baby! Dirk, Dirk, Dirk! Guess what? Guess what? GUESS WHAT?_ ”

Roxy is really too energetic for her own good. You sometimes wonder how Jane—as well as yourself—keep up with her.

“What?” you mumble. “Judging by how you're repeating yourself, you're nearly speechless. But let's be honest here: Roxy Lalonde is _never_ speechless.” You pause and listen to the silence of the other end before continuing. “You got laid.”

Roxy giggles madly, confirming your assumption. “ _Yes! But that's not even the best part!_ ”

“What then?”

“ _The reason why Janey and I finally did the horizontal hokey pokey—_ ”

“Is that a correct euphemism?”

“ _—is because she got accepted into the same university that I did! We're going to college together! Dirk! You, me, and Janey are going to be together still!_ ” The giggles resume.

Unconsciously, your eyes shift over to Jake, and your heart does an awkward, nervous throb. “That's great, Rox. I'm happy for you,” you say. “Listen, when we get to wherever it is we're going, I'll call you back, all right? I'm a little tired right now.”

“ _You got it, baby! Love you lots! Mwah, mwah, mwah!_ ”

“Love you too, Rox. Bye.”

You end the call and put your phone away, silence settling in the car. You brief Jake on the news just to fill quiet, and his response is short, clipped, a little disappointed. You try not to focus on the tension in the air.

It becomes too much for you quickly.

“Where are you going to college?” you ask.

“Don't know yet,” he says, glancing out of the corners of his eyes at you. “I've been thinking out of state.”

“Oh,” you mumble. You forget to keep your shoulders from slumping. “There are some good upstate colleges, you know. Like where I'm going...”

Jake's lips quirk slightly, barely noticeable. “Strider...are you suggesting that we go to college together?”

“No,” you say, and it's too fast. “Not like you're...we're...”

“'We're' what?” Jake sighs, and his face drops. “Dirk, I've been courting you for three months now...more than that, actually, if you count the flirting that preceded all of this. Why is it so hard for you to date me? I would gladly go to college with you if we _were_.”

“Is that blackmail?” you question, and the words come out on the venomous side. You look away.

“ _No_. Dirk, I—”

Jake slows the car down and pulls off to the side of the road. He parks, keys still in the ignition, radio crooning away. He unbuckles himself and turns to you, palms grasping your face, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes are pleading; his voice is soft. “Talk to me, Dirk. Tell me...tell me what's going through your head.”

You're not sure what's going through your head. On one hand, you want him to go to college with you so that you can carry on these shenanigans. On the other hand, you don't want to commit to someone who you feel can't commit to you.

That's it, isn't it? You're insecure. You don't want to give and receive nothing in return. You don't want to be used. Even though Jake has been courting you, promising you that he'll always take care of you and cherish you, you can't find yourself to believe it.

The roles that the two of you were given don't match. They don't function in the same manner. Your insecurities aren't imaginary, they're very much real.

You swallow thickly. You intend to tell him the truth: you can't be with him in that way because it just won't work. Your eyes lock with his, and the breath is knocked out of you by what you find.

Jake English is in love with you.

 _Love_.

What a silly notion.

You're both teenagers with no direction, no actual concept of the amount of emotional depth and devotion that comes with loving someone in ways that aren't familial or platonic. You can understand that you love Dave, and you know that you love Roxy and Rose just the same. You know how deep those feelings run; you know how you'd give yourself over to an executioner to save them. But what of Jake English? Does he understand how his feelings actually work? Is he really emotionally mature enough to be _in_ love with you. Furthermore, are you in love with him?

No. You _can't_ be. Your role and his role...society...you're both young and...

At some point during your pondering, you began to tear up. Your eyes are watery, and a single droplet slides down your cheek. You remain silent.

Jake starts. He removes your glasses with hesitant fingers, thumb wiping away the renegade tear. “Dirk, hey... I'm not trying to pressure you into anything. I'm sorry. Fuck. I'm _sorry_. Please don't...please don't...”

You choke on a sob. You're not sure why you're getting so worked up, but you have a feeling that it has something to do with the knot in your heart.

And suddenly, you don't care about the role you're suppose to play. You don't care that you're young and naïve and don't quite understand your feelings.

You're candid with yourself for once and kiss Jake with feeling, hands clenching his shirt, eyes squeezed shut, tears escaping.

You're starting to fall for the guy.

**== >**

\-- timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering tipsyGnostalgic [TG] \--

TT: Roxy.  
TT: How would you feel if my boyfriend went to college with us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like the end is near.
> 
> [My tumblr.](lovelettes.tumblr.com)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dirk and John get a surprise from their boyfriends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's research paper time, so I have less and less time to work on this. Plus I've been trying (and failing) to go back to original fiction.

That fucker brought you to Palm Springs. _Palm Springs_.

You're unsure of how to react to this information, and you continue to be unsure of how to react as you're whisked away to get the spa treatment of your fucking life.

“You have such lovely skin,” a young woman, a facialist, tells you as she scrutinizes your face. “I'm jealous!”

You mutter a thanks and slip back into your stupor as she applies some kind of cream mask shit to your skin. You twitch at the cold sliminess of the cream but quickly relax. The tightening sensation is soothing if not a little distracting.

Your disbelief begins to wear off by the time you're laying on a massage table, face staring at the floor, a stranger working the tenseness out of your muscles. You're unsure of just exactly _what_ she's doing to you, but the knots—the ones you were unaware of—you have begin to uncoil. You find yourself closing your eyes, mind drifting to Jake.

You remember your encounter in the library, where all of this began. You remember Jake. You remember his words and how shallow they seemed, how shallow they still seem compared to the Jake English you know now.

_”I'd buy you things, take you out for a drive in my Porsche, show you off for all to see, fucking spoil you to death.”_

So this is what he meant by spoiling you. A weekend at a world-renowned spa.

He's a man of his word, you'll give him that. You'll give him that and a _whole_ lot more.

You sigh, unwinding for once in your life, reflecting on the good instead of the bad. Being alone with this masseuse isn't ideal, and you've never been one to chat up a complete stranger, let alone one rubbing you down. There's not much left to do except to think. Think about you. Think about Jake. Think about you and Jake. Think about your relationship.

 _Relationship_.

You fight the need to shiver in delight. It's already hella awkward getting rubbed down by a stranger. No need to give her the impression that you're getting off on it. The only one who could do that to you is Jake.

You fight off the shiver again.

How could you catch such a lucky break? Somehow you managed to score a boyfriend who, quite surprisingly, is a good guy. You don't know what you've done to deserve it, deserve _him_ , but you choose not to question kismet and whatever forces out there working in your favor.

You know the real side of Jake English now. He allowed you inside the walls of the castle and offered to let you to sleep in the master bedroom. Likewise, you've been beginning to lower your defenses. You see that you've been too careful with your heart, if there is such a thing. You've never been frivolous or carefree, but now you're understanding what you missed because of your tight-hearted ways. Love.

You smile, a bit hesitant to believe what you're thinking.

You were missing the chance to fall in love, denying yourself of a privilege everyone deserves to experience.

You resolve to amend that.

When you head back to the room Jake and you are occupying, you feel dizzy. The massage relaxed your muscles a little _too_ much. You draw the white terrycloth robe tighter around you and support yourself against the wall.

You're a little slow in getting back and regaining your balance, but when you open the door and find Jake sprawled out on the bed, snoring, you smile. Shutting the door behind you, you pad over to him, crawling onto the bed beside him, curling up against his side.

You shut your eyes and allow his warmth to wash over you, feelings of bliss washing over you. You press your mouth against his throat and kiss him softly, resting your head on his chest. Jake stirs only briefly; one arm hooks around your waist, keeping you in place. He sinks back into his deep sleep, leaving you alone with your increased pulse.

You close your eyes.

**== >**

Somewhere amid those three months, Dave began to warm up to the idea of dating John Egbert. John, as he found out, wasn't as shallow as he originally thought. He was actually very funny and sweet occasionally—in a way befitting a dork, that is.

Dave supposed that it was inevitable that overtime he would begin to feel a little more willing to join John on dates and to enjoy his company. The heart was willing. The soul was willing. Dave was willing.

He was also willing to reciprocate favors.

Dave's tongue glides over the head of John's cock, catching the bead of precum dripping down. John groans above him, legs scissoring farther apart to accommodate Dave. Dave moves in closer, knees scraping against the floor, one hand moving over his boyfriend's, the other busying itself with setting a rhythm of pumping.

He gives John a teasing lick, tonguing the slit. John squirms helplessly.

“D...ave...”

Dave raises his eyes, mouth poised over the head of John's erection. He raises an eyebrow, silently asking him what he wants.

“Please...just...ah...”

An idea strikes him. Dave takes John's hand into his own, guiding it to rest in his hair. He presses on his hand, pushing himself forward, John's cock bumping against his lips.

“Dave, what...?”

He doesn't get it. Of _course_ he doesn't fucking get it. Well, he's just going to have to figure it out himself.

Dave draws away from him, mouth opening wide, lips covering his teeth. He presses John's hand again, pushing himself forward once more, mouth enveloping John.

John's fingers tighten, gripping his hair, pulling Dave back roughly and then shoving him forward onto his cock.

 _Now_ he gets it.

Dave lets go of his hand, his own falling uselessly to his lap as John pulls his head forward slowly, pulls him back slowly. The leisurely pace carries on only briefly; the heat of his mouth becomes too much for John to take. John increases the pace, and Dave thinks for a moment that he's going to get whiplash.

But god _damn_ is it hot.

Dave finds himself unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down quickly, hand palming the proof of his arousal through his boxers.

John has little self-control, and he comes close to gagging Dave a few times before he climaxes. Dave finds himself only mildly miffed when John comes on his face.

John collapse onto his bed, a sweaty, out-of-breath mess. He's trembling slightly, but there's a sated smile etched into his features.

Dave stands up and shimmies his jeans and boxers down to his ankles. Stepping out of them, he moves onto the bed, straddling John's chest. He takes his hand again, moving it to grip his erection.

“Now it's your turn, lover boy.”

John, through his panting, grins.

**== >**

You walk back to the room once more, suppressing a smirk. You're feeling smug, a little on the vain side, all because your skin feels like heaven.

You want Jake to know what heaven feels like.

Jake is awake this time, lounging on the bed clad only in his boxers, eyes fixed on the television. Some show about bounty hunting is holding his interest. He looks up when you shut the door, smiling at you as you saunter over to him.

“How was the spa?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows. “Did you like it?”

“Yeah,” you say, “I really like what they've done with my skin, actually.”

He laughs a little. “You're glowing, Dirk. What'd they do to you?”

“A peeling, a scrub, and some other shit I can't remember the name of.”

“So you enjoyed it?” Jake asks. “I mean that's why we're here and all. I told you that I wanted to spoil you.”

You're standing in front of him now, leaning over the bed. “I guess this means that it's my turn to spoil _you_.”

“What do you—”

You push him down, straddling his waist. You bring his hands to your hips and smirk wickedly. “Ever been waxed?” you ask. “I have. Just now. It hurt like a bitch, but my skin has never felt softer.”

Jake's face begins to turn pink. “What...what did you wax?”

You move his hand over your ass, and Jake turns from pink to red.

You lean forward, pressing a kiss against his ear, and whisper, “I'll tell you something else too... I'm not wearing anything under this robe...”

He sputters for a moment before breathing, “Golly!”

You suppress a laugh at his exclamation and kiss him, pushing him harder into the mattress. You fail at holding in your chuckles and break the kiss early. Jake laughs with you.

The two of you really are ridiculous, but to be candid, you really don't want it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you freak out, I don't know how many chapters are left. But I do have an ending planned. And before you ask, I'm going to write a Douchestuck DaveJohn oneshot when this is over.
> 
> [My tumblr.](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com/) You're all going to unfollow me when this is over, aren't you :(


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly pesterlogs.

It doesn't matter how many times Jake has seen your naked body, it still makes you blush when he ogles you.

Case in point: you're joining him in the hot springs, and when you drop your towel, you immediately blame the steam for the undoubtedly pink tint of your skin.

You step into the water with little hesitation, however. The heat draws you end. You've always been a fan of impossibly hot showers, and this is really no different. The heat and steam feels good on your skin, and whatever mythos about steam opening up one's pores seems pretty spot on in this moment. You sigh as you sink into the water, a smile gracing your features.

The bliss is short-lived, unfortunately. Before you can completely descend into the water, Jake's hands are on you, gripping your hips and pulling you close. You tense by reflex as he tugs you down to straddle his lap.

You heave a heavy sigh. “Are you ever _not_ in the mood?”

“Sometimes,” he says, kissing you softly. “Actually, I just wanted to cuddle with you, mate. Talk about some things...movies and our relationship and the like...”

You shake your head at him, disbelieving his proposal. “This isn't going to be like the time we were talking about _Avatar_ and whether or not it was overrated, right? Because, not gonna lie, I'm not really in the mood for 'fisticuffs' right now.”

“Of course not, love! I wouldn't dream of taking you off-guard again! Especially after I found out what a mean left hook you have...” Jake rubs his jaw, recalling the pain.

You wind your arms around his neck. “Don't make me regret trusting you, English.” You give him a warning look. “Now, what was this about movies?”

**== >**

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

TG: janey baby my sweetheart my darling  
TG: my lovely my doll my babe  
TG: i think im repeating myself  
TG: anyway  
TG: whenever you get this message me back  
TG: were planning on taking dirk and english out when they get back to congratulate them  
TG: congratulate them on doing things ass backwards and finally becoming a couple after fucking each others brains out for three months  
TG: i mean jfc  
TG: i was against it at first but then i found out that jake isnt a total douche  
TG: hes more like douche substitute  
TG: ‘i cant believe its not douche’  
TG: im rambling again sorry baby  
TG: im just so happy for dirk that i cant contain myself  
TG: you know how it is im sure youre happy for jake too  
TG: so the dinner thing is totes casual  
TG: like me and rose and dave decided on apple bees  
TG: johns coming because dave had enough sense to date the dude instead of fucking around with him like dirk  
TG: btw i think kanaya is coming become of rose  
TG: idk whats going on there but kanaya has the best sense of style and i wanna pick her brain for prom ideas  
TG: plus i want her to trick out some of my sweaters  
TG: i think i sent too many of these  
TG: sorry :(  
TG: anyway im gonna go round up some people to start a war  
TG: a war on everything that involves work ever  
TG: that sounds like a lot of work nvm  
TG: i think ill grab some peeps and go to the movies  
TG: send me a text if you get some free time and ill let you know where were at if you wanna join  
TG: so yeah  
TG: bye bye

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

TG: wait  
TG: i almost forgot  
TG: <3

\-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering gutsyGumshoe [GG] \--

**== >**

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

TG: john  
TG: john  
TG: egbert  
TG: you there?  
TG: i know youre there  
TG: you literally have nothing better to do than to talk to me you know  
TG: me and my fine ass self  
TG: course you already know this  
TG: unless vriska has sunk her metaphorical fangs into you  
TG: i can smack a bitch if you need me to  
TG: actually ill get rose or roxy to do it but the offer still stands  
TG: whatever egbert ill just take my nudes myself  
TG: really that didnt send you running to me  
TG: im so done with you   
EB: dave!   
TG: its a miracle  
TG: whatever would i do without you   
EB: sorry i was talking to vriska.   
TG: dont you mean  
TG: vriiiiiiiiska   
EB: shut up. she's cool when she's not telling me weird things about cat penises and stuff.   
TG: …  
TG: yeah no im not gonna ask  
TG: anyway  
TG: were going out to dinner   
EB: !!!!!!!!  
EB: yes! fuck yes!  
EB: i knew you would come around.   
TG: dont get excited its a bunch of us   
TG: its a “congrats for finally dating the dude youre being fucked by” dinner for my bro  
TG: and also english   
EB: what? they're dating now?   
TG: yes try to keep up god fucking damn it  
TG: were going to apple bees  
TG: because thats where families go to celebrate  
TG: and thats what we all are  
TG: a family  
TG: a huge fucked up family  
TG: but a family nonetheless  
TG: anyway i was just letting you know  
TG: i dont what time or anything  
TG: ill update you later   
EB: all right then. i guess we'll talk later?  
EB: you still owe me a date.   
TG: yeah yeah whatever  
TG: talk to you later about that i guess  
TG: see ya   
EB: <3  
EB: <3  
EB: <3  
EB: <3  
EB: …  
EB: oh, come on, dave.  
EB: <3  
EB: <3  
EB: <3   
TG: <3   
EB: yes!!!!!!!!   
TG: dork   
EB: you love me.   
TG: bye

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] \--

**== >**

Jake lied to you. All he wanted from you was fisticuffs, not opinions on movies. As pissed off as you are right now, you can't help but grin. Jake's pinned beneath you. You won. You won like you won the last time and like how you'll keep on winning.

You'll admit that you're getting off on the power you wield.

“Dirk, can you let me up?” Jake asks, squirming in your grip. “This is getting uncomfortable. I'm sorry for tricking you.”

“Nah,” you say, “I think I'm just gonna plant my ass here and watch you struggle.”

“Oh, come on! Fuck, I'm sorry! I said I was sorry! Strider...”

You contemplate tying him up or shoving him back into the hot springs but quickly decide against both. No need to display your sociopathic tendencies.

Instead, you bend down to kiss his neck. “Should I start leaving marks on you?” you whisper against his skin. “My hips are all bruised up, and my neck is wreck. To be absolutely candid with you, dear, I feel like some revenge is in order.”

“Ngh...”

You take this as submission and bite down on his throat. If you're going public with your relationship, then you want everyone to see the great Jake English marked up and claimed as yours.

You'll admit that you're a little sadistic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My tumblr.](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'm hosting [giveaway](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com/post/38404276954/lovelettes-so-since-im-at-200-300-followers%22%22) there right now. It ends on the 23rd.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas <3

You don't fall asleep on the ride home. You stay up instead and chat with Jake about college plans and career choices and the like. You attempt to open up to him, to talk about your interests even if they're strange. In return, Jake tells you some odd things and some not-so-odd things about himself. He used to live with his grandmother on a island up until she passed. He told you grand stories of his adventures with her and his own lonesome treks into the unforgiving jungle.

You're not surprised to learn that his aspiration is to become an archaeologist. It only makes sense that he wants to return to his roots, to his island, and find what lay waiting there for millions of years.

Your hands are twined together, and the only light on the road is the headlights. It's dark and comfortable. With him, it's almost home. You lean against him carefully as he drives, eyes slipping shut as you drone on about mechanics and gadgetry. He smells of nature and adrenaline and something unidentifiable yet sweet. Your heart throbs as you breathe it in. Everything about his both calms and excites you.

It is home. _He_ is home.

You're still young, still inexperienced in the often-bumpy game of love and relationships, and you don't know how long this will last. You just know that you _want_ it to last. Jake is the one who is breaking down the stone walls of your heart; he's making you a more open person. Jake represents the future of your love life. Jake represents Hope.

To Jake, you've done just the same. No longer does he act like a pretentious asshole. Now he's just a dorky guy with a hunger for adventure and a hunger for you. He's real. He's Jake.

“Jake,” you say, and you're still not tired of saying his name.

“Hm?”

You figure you should ask the question burning on your mind. “Why me?”

Jake chuckles a little, and you're relieved that you don't have to clarify your inquiry. You both are getting good at this unspoken communication thing.

“Why you?” His fingers grip yours more firmly. “Because you're different. You're interesting. And as I've come to find out, you're very...sentimental? I think that's the word?”

“Sentimental?” you mumble, more to yourself than to Jake. “I don't know about that...”

He shrugs. “I was going to say sweet, but that sounds too cliché. And _nothing_ about you is _cliché_.” His lips quirk into a smile. “Kind, perhaps. You're not at all like you seem.”

“Nor are you,” you say.

Silence swallows the two of you again, but, thankfully, it's comfortable and warm. Your fingers are still linked, the radio is still humming, and the lights still cast beams on the dark pavement.

And then there's Jake, quietly singing off-key to the radio, completely unaware of the effect he's having on you by just _sitting_ there.

You realize that you're falling in deeper with each passing moment.

“Why me?” Jake asks, shattering the perfect silence.

And because you don't quite understand why him, you laugh and tell him it was that moment in the library when he showed the depth of his enthusiasm.

“Be serious,” he says, chuckling along with you.

You ponder for awhile, search your feelings, relive that moment in the library. You remember how he looked at you when he stated his desires.

It was because of that gleam of sincerity in his eyes, to be candid. You tell him as much.

**== >**

You find out that you have several messages waiting for you when you arrive home. Roxy's bright pink text dominates most of your monitor.

TG: congrats on the sex *wonk*  
TG: shit i mean *wink*  
TG: and the relationship too  
TG: really its mostly the relationship  
TG: congrats on being the most backwards fuck i know di-stri  
TG: btw you will be happy to know that i havent been nipping at the gin lately  
TG: i wanna be good for janey  
TG: dont want her to know about my lady drunk status  
TG: my FORMER lady drunk status  
TG: 'sides i havent had the urge in a while  
TG: as sappy as this sounds  
TG: and dont you fucking laugh because you are a huge softie too so step off  
TG: as sappy as this sounds i think jane might be filling what void there is inside me  
TG: shes just so understanding you know?  
TG: i think i could fall in love with this girl  
TG: shit who am ii kidding I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS GIRL  
TG: fucking SWOON  
TG: im in love dirky im in love  
TG: ill shout it from the rooftops  
TG: while holding her hand and spinning her around like a gentlemen does his lady in one of those old black and white movies  
TG: our love feast shall be grand  
TG: *fest  
TG: no *feast is better  
TG: our love feast shall be grand and plentiful  
TG: our love could feed an army  
TG: none of them would be able to move for weeks  
TG: too fucking full of turkey or some shit  
TG: speaking of food i have something planned for you and your bf when you get back  
TG: *wonk*  
TG: *wink*  
TG: g2g bby janes coming for me  
TG: see you when you get back!!!

You minimize her window and check the others. Red words lay beyond pink. Dave's wall of text is significantly smaller.

TG: hey bro how are you  
TG: getting the d i bet  
TG: guess jakes been treating you pretty good then  
TG: thats good  
TG: didnt want to have to kick his ass  
TG: although roxy would probably beat me to that punch real quick  
TG: run me the fuck over getting to that punch  
TG: anyway  
TG: roxy is planning something for when you get back  
TG: i dont know if she wants it to be a surprise or not but too late now cause i already ruined it  
TG: i know youre not much for surprises  
TG: i got your back bro  
TG: also  
TG: before roxy or rose tells you anything  
TG: ive been fucking around with egbert lately  
TG: john egbert i mean  
TG: and i mean 'fucking around' in both senses  
TG: there you go  
TG: i told you  
TG: probably wont be home when you get back too  
TG: were gonna see a movie  
TG: so see ya sometime later

It's not a very shocking development. Considering the amount of time Egbert spent around Dave, and the amount of passes John's been making, it was simply a matter of time before Dave either snapped or caved. He caved.

Your eyes catch another bit of text. It's Rose's, surprisingly. She doesn't pester you to just check up on you. Usually, she initiates a conversation when she desires mental simulation. The messages are brief, however.

TT: I suppose I should alert you to the fact that my sister is dragging you and your paramour out to a quiet little restaurant with a not-so-quiet group.  
TT: Prepare yourself, Dirk.  
TT: A storm is coming.  
TT: And that storm is dinner at Apple Bee's.  
TT: I wish you luck, sensei.

You sigh as you turn away from the monitor. You wonder what sort of humiliation your friends have in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little short. I was planning on making this the final chapter, but I wanted to post something for Christmas. I don't know what the last chapter will be or when it will be.
> 
> Also, the giveaway is over, but there will be another one soon. After this fic is over, be on the lookout for a JohnDave fic that the winner requested. Oh, and I may start taking request for fics sometime.
> 
>  
> 
> [My tumblr.](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com/)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which conclusions are made, and the story comes to an end.

You could cry. You really could. You have the greatest friends in the entire world, and you're not just saying that because of the free meal that lay before you.

“You're all insane,” you say, eyes making their rounds circling a table at Apple Bee's.

Looks like Rose wasn't kidding.

“Well, we gotta celebrate you manning the hell up and dating the guy that's boning you,” Roxy says, raising her glass of lemonade. Evidently, she's serious about the whole sobriety thing. “Mazel fucking tov!”

You laugh and raise yours despite yourself. Jake's hand finds yours under the table at the same time the melody of clinking glass starts up. You scoot a little closer to him, chancing a glance and a smile. He grins at you, all teeth and happiness and affection.

Everyone is staring at the two of you. Dave and John, John's arm slung over Dave's shoulders, watch on, John smiling, Dave smirking. Rose smiles politely at you while Kanaya Maryam (joining the group strictly for Rose-related reasons) alternates between fussing over Rose's locks and following Rose's gaze. Jade stares, impassive and obviously wishing she was somewhere else. Roxy and Jane, arms linked together, lean in and smile mischievously.

“ _Kiss_ ,” Roxy whispers, and you fight down the heat crawling to your cheeks. “ _Kiss_.”

You shake your head at her. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“ _Kiss_ , goddamn it!”

“Rox, stop. We're in public.”

“ _Kiss_ ,” she says again, Jane joining her this time.

Jake clears his throat, prompting you to look at him. He wrenches his hand from your grasp (you hadn't realized that you were holding onto him so tight) and slips his arm around your shoulder, mirroring John and Dave.

“I'm, uh, I'm okay with it if you are. _Only_ if you are,” Jake says, and he scratches the back of his head, surprisingly sheepish. His smile is boyish and endearing.

 _God_. How can he manage to take your breath away so easily? Is he even _aware_ of the effect he has on you?

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders, and tilt your head back. “I guess we could try exhibition.”

Jake laughs and leans down to meet your lips. The kiss is soft, sweet, a little awkward considering how wide the two of you are smiling. Cheers fill the air around you. Encouraged, you kiss him a little harder, a little more passionately before pulling away.

There's no fighting the red engulfing your face.

A moment of tense silence settles in, and you can't take the smiles and the attention.

“Can we just eat already?” you ask, grabbing your fork and jamming it into some kind of pasta and garlic confection on your plate.

The table erupts into laughter, and you can't help but laugh with them.

**== >**

You hug Roxy when she exits the restaurant. The two of you are alone for now, and you decide to take advantage of it.

She giggles and hugs you back. “What's all the affection for, Dirky? You know I'm spoken for...”

“I thought we could cheat on our respective lovers with each other,” you joke, smiling. You peck her on the forehead. “Or at least have a foursome.”

She laughs and smacks your chest. “Ew, no! I don't want your dick in my vagina, ever.”

“Who said I'd be topping?” You cock a brow. “I've always been interested in pegging.”

Roxy swats at you again and laughs harder. You laugh with her and bump her shoulder. She bumps you back, and pretty soon you're having a playful shoving war. It takes a few minutes for the battle to cease and for you both to calm down and breathe.

Once there's a sufficient amount of air in your lungs, you say, “Thank you, Rox.”

“For what?”

“For...all of this. For being supportive.” You feel yourself getting emotional, dangerously close to sappy, but you can't find it in you to care. “For being an awesome friend. I really couldn't ask for anyone better.”

You kiss her forehead again and wind your arms around her. Roxy leans her head against your chest and folds her arms around your back.

“Thank you,” she says as the embrace breaks. “The feeling's mutual.”

Jake and Jane exit the restaurant not a moment later. Jane throws her arms around Roxy's neck from behind, leaning over her shoulder to kiss her cheek. Roxy reaches up and threads her fingers with Jane's, and the two of them look so in love with each other that you have to suppress a grin.

As Jake takes his place beside you, hand quietly taking yours, you break down and smile at Roxy, and she smiles at you.

A little happiness has found the two of you, and you can't help but feel that you both earned it.

**== >**

You have a dream later that night, a dream filled with life and death and gold and purple and royalty. A dream with Jake encased in a coffin of flowers, carried off by citizens garbed in white. A dream where you watch from a lonely tower encased in the darkness, yearning for him. A dream where your life is ended as abruptly as his, in a cool flow of blood, hot metal protruding from your stilled heart.

You wake with a jolt, breathless and covered with a fine sheet of sweat. The room you're in is dark, and it isn't yours, and for a moment, you panic. You then remember that you're at Jake's, not kidnapped and locked in a basement.

Jake, who lay next to you, stirs and mumbles something incoherent, arm falling into your lap. He gropes around for your hand, locates it quickly, and tangles his fingers with yours. He mumbles a string of incoherent babble again.

“What?”

He struggles to prop himself up on his elbows, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “I said...” He yawns. “...I said 'what's wrong?'”

You sigh quietly. “Nothing...I just...I had a dream.” You curse yourself when the words come out shaky. Vulnerability be damned.

“What about?”

You're hesitant. “It was, uh, about us.”

He blinks up at you, eyes bleary and slowly coming into focus. “I take that it wasn't good.”

“No...no, I...” You trail off, unable to tell him what you dreamed of. You couldn't very well tell your boyfriend that you dreamed about him being a cold, unmoving corpse. You couldn't very well tell him that you were murdered in cold blood. You couldn't very well tell him how terrified you are.

He brings your hand to his lips and brushes your knuckles with a feather-light kiss. “Take your time, love.”

You nod and slip into silence, mind wandering. You attempt to remember what you've read about dreams and dream symbolism. Wasn't death in a dream something positive? Didn't death mean change or end? But...isn't that negative? If anything is about to come to an end, you hope it isn't your relationship. Not when it just started. Not when you were becoming open.

Wait.

Is _that_ it? Did the dream symbolize the death of the person you used to be? The death of the person Jake used to be? Was this a new beginning?

You've never been big on all of this dream stuff, but it does help you relax a bit. Your subconscious is giving you a thumbs up in a way. It's telling you, perhaps, that this relationship is going to work.

Instead of saying anything, instead telling him about your revelation, you lean down and kiss him. Jake falls back to mattress, hands reaching up, embedding themselves in your hair. He pulls you down to lay atop of him.

“We're going to work,” you whisper. “ _Us_ , this relationship...it'll work.”

“Yes,” Jake says quietly. “ _Yes_.” His lips find yours once again.

The kiss, innocent at the start, takes a turn for passion. Passion that is not red hot and Barry White. Passion that is instead quiet and loving and cherishing. You shiver against him when his tongue probes your mouth gently, glides across your teeth, curls around your own. His fingers massage your scalp; it's soothing.

Your hands find the front of his shirt. You jerk him up and reverse your position so that you lay beneath him. You draw your knees up, allowing him to settle between your legs. You tug at his shirt, sliding it up his back, fingers caressing the beautiful tan skin stretched across his muscles. He sits up suddenly, yanks the shirt off in a hurry, and makes quick work of removing yours.

When he kisses you, it's frantic.

When you kiss him back, it's desperate.

You're needy. He's needy. But despite this, you pull away for a brief instant. Your voice comes out as a breathy whisper, thick with raw _feeling_. “Jake...Jake...I don't want to have sex with you now.”

He blinks at you in confusion.

“I want you to...” Your face, already flushed, colors in brighter and darker reds . “...to make love to me instead.” And just for emphasis, you repeat, “Love.”

You witness him register your words, observe as the passion returns to his features, as _love_ brightens his eyes. He swoops down and captures your mouth with renewed vigor, an undertone of sincerity coloring his actions.

God, that _sincerity_. You never thought something like that could be such a turn on, but it _is_.

Undressing is a blur, so is preparation; the moment of clarity begins when he's fully inside of you, thrusting in slow, fluid motions. Your hands are clutching his back, fingers digging in his skin shoulder, nails dragging down lightly. You want to leave marks but not tonight. The tone isn't right for that.

Jake's head drops to your juncture of your shoulder, breathing hotly against your skin, occasionally pressing small, tickling kisses there. His hips never stop moving.

Your moans are soft in tone but loud and echoing in the dark room. Jake's match yours, in tone and in volume and in passion and in emotion.

Jake raises up and lifts your thighs, hitching them on his hips. His movements pick up, turning frenzied and hurried. Your breath catches when his fingers wrap around your length and start pumping.

You're feeling good, so _good_ , and so hot and so _loved_. The white light of your orgasm approaches you, hits you without warning, and soon there's a mess on your abdomen being spread as Jake collapses on top of you, still thrusting madly, close. He tenses suddenly, his hips sputtering, erratic and sporadic, as he reaches his peak.

He fills you. In more ways than one.

It's in the afterglow, when you're both breathing quietly, a mess of sweaty limbs twisted together, when he looks at you and says something monumental.

“I love you, you know that?” Jake says and asks. That boyish smile is there, but it's softened by his maturity.

You tear up. You don't mean to, but it happens. He's told you before, but it was always during one of your moments of heat and entanglement. You didn't think he meant it then, thought he just said it because he was in the moment and it seemed right. He loves your body, you know that well enough. But...

...Jake loves _you_. He loves you and all that comes with you. Your heart hurts, aches for him, and the tears keep escaping.

Jake is apologizing, peppering your face in kisses, wiping the tears away with his thumb. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Dirk. Please don't...please don't...”

You sniffle, blinking the new tears away. “Why are you apologizing?” you ask him, genuinely baffled. “You don't have anything to apologize for, Jake. I'm happy.” You smile. “Happy tears.”

His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

“Kiss me,” you say. “And tell me you love me again.”

Jake complies without question, kissing you sweetly on the forehead, the cheek, the nose, and finally the lips. “I love you,” he murmurs against your mouth.

And then you look up at him, leaning away far enough to see his face clearly. “You want to know my feelings?”

He nods, and your heart swells with nervousness. But then a calm settles over you. Worry is erased. Jake loves you, loves you for all that you are and nothing that you're not. And you?

“To be candid? I love you,” you say.

And there it is. There's the happy ending to your story. A happy ending befitting a prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it, my dears! That's _To Be Candid_ , a fanfiction that was only meant to be PWP with three chapters.
> 
> Stay tuned for an upcoming DaveJohn fic plus many others!
> 
>  
> 
> [My tumblr.](http://lovelettes.tumblr.com/)


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